born out of thorns
by Amaryne
Summary: It is the most terrifying and horrifying feeling when Len realises he's in love with his sister. - Rin/Len.
1. what i have to do,

**TITLE: **born out of thorns  
**SUMMARY: **It is the most terrifying and horrifying feeling when Len realises he's in love with his sister. Rin/Len. Incest. TWOSHOT.

**Rating: **M for the Incest and other things :)

**NOTES: **This has been in production for quite a while… let me know what you think? I feel like there aren't many stories in the Rin/Len department that truly grapple and handle the whole incest thing very well (hence why I started Socialities – which is in dire need of an updated chapter, I know, please don't hurt me!)

But while I was writing, I realised how hard the subject was to tackle, and I was so bloody confused about how to approach the topic and what writing style to use and blah-blah-blah and frankly, the entire thing was becoming impressively long, so I was like. Okay. Clearly this monster doesn't want to be _just _a oneshot, so I was all, fine! Fine. Be that way. See if I care.

**UPDATED: **ffnet killed my doc a bit, which I've tried to fix but if there are weirdly joined words or missing words, let me know!

.

.

.

.

.

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.

.

.

.

.

.

It starts when he's eleven.

He doesn't really remember much of Rin. Their parents had separated before they were born and, fittingly enough, they had both gone with their same-sex parent; he stays with their father, she stays with their mother. From then on, they only speak to each other when it is utterly necessary. It hadn't seemed weird at the time, it just _was_. It is only until the middle of primary school when he realises that all the other brothers and sisters are either bickering or holding hands and, well, _talking_.

So he asks his father one day, "How come I never get to talk to Rin?"

And like a switch, his father flips. He immediately runs to the phone and calls his mother - "Yes, Elaine, hello to you too – no, there's nothing wrong with Len, I was just thinking about Len and Rin and whether they should – _yes_, I know, I should have thought of it earlier, but it honestly didn't cross my mind until – I know, Elaine, you don't have to keep _interrupting _me. I'm just saying that maybe we could have – I don't know, a _play date_. I think it'd be good for them to bond a little. When they grow up enough to understand the situation better, they're going to wonder why they never actually spent time with each other, and I don't want to have that conversation."

They go bowling. Their mother, and father, and a family friend to mediate the entire thing. Their father spends all of his time on his Blackberry, while their mother jabbers about this and that on the phone.

Luka, the family friend, tries hard to keep the atmosphere pleasant and happy and joyous but the fact is that it's awkward, and it's forced, and Rin doesn't seem to be too happy with the situation either.

She _sucks _at bowling and to top that off, is a total sore loser, and so when he wins _one_ game she throws a complete fit and Luka has to beg Len to lose the next game just so that Rin won't be upset on the way home.

He decides that day that he doesn't like Rin very much. Having a sister _sucks_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

In eighth grade, his memory of Rin doesn't so much tarnish her as it makes her an object of interest; it's surprising when he hears that a _Rin Kagamine_ had gotten into the Vocaloid Performing Arts School. It's like musical talent is in their blood, or something. Something they have in common.

He finds himself sneaking glances at her in the halls every now in then, looking at her and the kind of friends she has. She seems like every other normal girl. Her school skirt's a little short and her jumper is at least four or five sizes too big for her – she's the absolute embodiment of your typical cute, teenage girl. She's friends with Miku Hatsune, a girl that's bubbly as hell, and has already released some pop album that's apparently been sold in nine countries, or whatever.

Of course, he's not the only one who notices that Rin Kagamine is his sister. It's a bit obvious, considering they're the spitting image of each other. It provides for some awkward situations; people get confused about the fact that they live in different homes, or the fact that it's just as awkward between them as it is between any two people in their grade who don't really know each other. It's a bit unorthodox but nothing torturous.

At the end of the year, she gets the lead in one of their musicals, and he watches her dance and sing with some guy – Kaito Shion, something like that – and he knows, instantly, that she is completely infatuated with him.

He's not sure why. He's just... hyperaware of it, of the way she's looking at him, of the fact that she has _feelings _for him. He doesn't know how he knows, or why he keeps thinking about it, because he honestly has no opinion on the matter at all. It's just something that pops into his head randomly, like a catchy song or an annoying jingle. Either way, it makes him a little uncomfortable, even voyeuristic to a point. So he shifts in his seat and takes out his phone, tries to play with it discreetly. Anything to not look at Rin, or Kaito, or them together – it looks like something he's not supposed to see, so he tries not to.

.

.

.

.

.

In the ninth grade, she starts emerging. Cliques are becoming more concrete, and he hears people compliment her on her dancing and cute voice in the halls; she's not as girly as Miku, but there's a certain charm that everybody associates with her. She's everywhere. She's organising the bake stalls, showing around the juniors, getting the awards and auditioning for legitimate music parts; she and Miku are known as these beautiful, unreachable, bubbly girls and then he thinks, quite amusedly to himself, that he was pretty stupid for thinking they had _anything _in common.

As for him, he's just chill. He honestly has no idea where he's going to go with this singing thing. Or his guitar thing. Or his piano thing. Or, you know, any music thing. Because he's alright at it, and his teachers are always harping about potential _potential_ _potential_ but he can't really see a future ahead of him. He looks at the accomplished people – like Kaito, like Meiko, the popular people who round themselves up and call themselves the Vocaloids', the people full of school spirit and absolute _joy_, and Len just thinks... well, he pales in comparison to that.

That's the year that Miku notices him. She overhears him composing a piece that's due in a week or so, and she stands in the doorway and listens. When he realises she's there, he almost wants to roll his eyes. Not because he doesn't like friendly people – he loves them – but just because this is typical _Miku_, trying to make friends with everyone in the grade as if it'll matter in a year or two. He lets her approach him, smile at him and tell him what a good piano player he is.

Len wonders if she's into him, because it's hard to tell with girls like Miku. You can tell with most girls, because they giggle and twirl their hair and lean forward and other typically flirty things like that – but Miku does that all the time. So.

He scribbles on a few more notes, trying to play the tune in his head rather than on the piano; he's conscious of Miku's presence, the way she's smiling sweetly at him. He's not really sure what he's supposed to do with girls who watch you while you play, or what to do when they offer you compliments that you aren't sure are empty or not.

Len's pretty certain of what his social status is. He's not exactly supremely popular, is a bit of a self-imposed loner, but he's a far cry from a loser and can hang out with pretty much anyone he wants. He's never considered _popularity _that big a thing, until he sees the kids who eat in the toilets and hears the girls bitch.

"Aren't you going to play more?" Miku says, smiling softly, and he just shrugs and decides to finish his composition some other day.

"Nah, another time," he says, packing up his music folder and stuffing it into his bag. "Not really feeling it today."

"Are you going to be here tomorrow?" she asks, before he leaves.

He pauses, considers that. What, come to the music room and let Miku Hatsune watch him play? Christ. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"Maybe," he settles for, and leaves.

.

.

.

.

.

He doesn't go back to the music room after school. Decides that it isn't worth all the questioning and wondering. And he's pretty sure that there are guys in their school who wouldn't hesitate to cut his balls off if they knew he was spending time with _Miku_ _Hatsune_ alone.

One day, when she's coming around with cupcakes and brownies to encourage people to vote for her as a ninth grade president, she stops at Len and asks him, all innocent, "I never saw you at the music room."

He doesn't really know what to say to that. "Right, yeah," he manages lamely. "Sorry."

"No, don't be sorry," she says, a coy little smile playing at her lips. "Make it up to me. We're setting up these slushie stalls next week, and we could use a little help."

"We?"

"Well, me and Rin," she says. "Of course."

"Right. Of course." He licks his lips. "Sorry, Miku, I don't think so."

"Do you just not like me?" she comes out bluntly. Then she turns crimson, like she's only just become aware of what she's actually said. "I mean – I don't know -"

"Of course I like you," he says. "Everyone does, don't they?"

She looks at him with the strangest expression, like it's only just struck her how popular she is.

Deciding the silence has reached its height of awkwardness, he offers her a brief smile before saying, "I'll see you around, Miku." And then he leaves.

.

.

.

.

.

He doesn't speak a word to Rin until he decides to buy a slushie from one of those slushie stalls; he hopes that he'll be served by Miku so he can apologise, or whatever. Make things a little less awkward between them, because now she'll barely look him in the eye. But instead he's served by Rin, who smiles at him (but it falters a bit, and he notices, and he knows it's not because she doesn't like him or anything but still, he notices).

"What'll it be, Len?" she says, with that practiced, bubbly tone of politeness. "We've got coke, red stuff, blue stuff and even green tea slushies! Dunno if the green tea slushies are any good, though, they were kind of an experiment. Two dollars each!"

Experimental slushies. Huh. "Uh. Coke's good. I'll just have one." He hands over two dollars, which she puts into this silver box on the edge of the table. "By the way, where's Miku?"

"Oh. Um." She looks around, her short blonde hair swishing around her. "I think she went to the toilet. She'll be back, though. You should wait here, or something. Why?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"You're not going to ask her out, are you?"

He blinks at her in surprise, taken aback by her directness. "What?"

"I just mean – do you like her? Is that why you're... I don't know, um... okay, I'm sorry, this is really weird." She fidgets a little. Something she doesn't really do, not usually.

"I don't really know her that well," he replies, trying to figure out what she's so flustered about.

"Oh, yeah, I figured you didn't, because – oh, I don't know. I'm sorry. Could you get out of line? Please? Other people are waiting."

"...Right. Yeah, I'll get out of your way." He moves to the side, watching her curiously. Then he shrugs and walks off to his spot, taking a sip of the slushie– it tastes sweet, way too sweet. He almost spits it out, but forces himself to swallow it down instead, drinks the entire thing. He's not really sure why.

.

.

.

.

.

At home, his father asks him how Rin is going.

"Are you two getting along well?" he asks, cutting his steak into little pieces. Len just stabs his own steak mindlessly. "I heard she got into some kind of photoshoot."

"I hadn't heard. She's alright. We're going alright." He tries to cut the steak with his fork and fails. "I don't really talk to her, though."

"Why not?"

Len shrugs without a word, because, really, his dad doesn't want to know why they're not getting along, or how she's doing. There's no point in getting indepth about anything that's going on just because by that point, he will have lost the will to continue with his obligatory fatherliness. Not that anything is really happening.

"How about schoolwork? Is that going well?"

"Same old," Len says.

His father nods in satisfaction, and chews silently as Len stabs and stabs and stabs into the steak. Not once does his father say anything about it.

.

.

.

.

.

In the first term of tenth grade, Rin bumps into him after school, hands full of school supplies. Her eyes widen a little, before returning to their state of normality and friendliness.

"Didn't see you there, Len," she breathes out, and he smiles back, though he figures his smile isn't as nearly as practiced as hers is. "My mum – our mum, I mean, she's inside."

He doesn't miss the slip, and nods. "Right. I'll see you later, then."

"W-wait," she says quickly, sounding all flustered and confused again. "I just – um... there's a Christmas dinner this year. Well, it happens every year. But my mum – oh, gosh, sorry, _our_mum, she wants to know if you can come. She mentioned wanting to invite you but I think she just forgot, and I thought..."

She's nice, he decides. Really nice. "Thanks, Rin," he says. "I'll think about it."

.

.

.

.

.

At home, he tests the sounds out.

"Hey, sis," he says.

"Sis, can you pass me the salt?"

"Hey, sis, do you need help with your calculus?"

"Guess what dad said to me, sis?"

"Mum, this thing happened at school the other day -"

It feels forced, stupid, sad. Pathetic.

For a moment, he's angry at himself, angry at his dad, angry at his mum, just fucking pissed off that everything is the way it is and nothing's the way he wants it to be, that he doesn't _know _what he wants it to be, that there's no climax to anything and he's just fucking _frustrated_, and what the hell did it mean when Rin said that her mum – _their _mum, shit – _forgot _him? How can you just _forget _your son? How can you just -

He exhales, closes his eyes. Whatever, whatever, whatever.

.

.

.

.

.

In the second week of the first term of tenth grade, Miku is forced away from her seat next to her friends to sit next to him, because apparently she talks too much and well, he doesn't really talk, period.

It's a little awkward, because Miku blatantly ignores him in favour of the people around him –Kaito, especially – but at the end of the lesson, she stays in her seat and asks if they can talk. He says yes.

He's not sure how, but at some point in the conversation between her "_I've never met anyone likes you"_'s and "_I guess I was just a little shocked by what you said, I'm kind of going through a tough patch right now"_s they start kissing. Her lips are really soft and things get really wet and then his neck starts to crick, because their position is kind of uncomfortable. He can taste her apple-flavoured lipbalm and feels how warm she is when she, somehow, climbs onto his lap and straddles him, her arms around his neck.

At some point, she stops, pulls away, her lips all swollen and her cheeks flushed. "I should go," she says quietly, and he nods wordlessly. She gets off of him, hurries off, but stops at the doorway and turns around.

"Am I going to see you at the music room?" she says, and he wonders why he's thinking of saying no. Why he has just made out with the most beautiful girl in the school and he still doesn't want to see her in the music room. But like she can sense his doubt, she says, "Actually, never mind. Sit at my table with me this lunch." She flashes that smile, that smile she and Rin share.

"Yeah," he says, because somehow that doesn't feel as intimate. "Yeah, okay. I can do that."

"You like me now, right?"

Len hesitates. Well, he has to like her. He just made out with her. And what's not to like?

"Yeah. Yeah, I like you."

"Good. I like you too," she offers, and blows a kiss at him. He's not really sure what to respond to that – does he catch it? Blow a kiss back? Grin stupidly? He does neither, just stares at her questioningly. Figuring that he should probably get moving, he grabs his bag and walks over to her, and doesn't protest when she takes his hand and links his fingers with hers.

All the people in the hallway side-glance at their joined hands, but it's not the end of the world. It makes him feel a bit uncomfortable, like he's in a spotlight, like he's some trophy - but he looks atMiku's beaming face and lets it go, decides that the stupid feeling isn't worth standing up for.

They sit down in the cafeteria, a place he hasn't really hung out in since seventh grade. There's Meiko, Kaito, Rin, Miki, Gumi, and that blonde chick, See U or something. Rin looks at him strangely, like she's not sure why he's here. To be fair, neither does he.

She grips his hand hard underneath the table, so that he only has one hand to eat with. He can't really decide if he likes it or not. It's more awkward than anything else. He hopes his hand doesn't get sweaty.

The table chatters excitedly regardless of him, as he eats his food quietly next to Miku. Every so often, she looks over to him and smiles.

Len wishes he could smile back, but he doesn't. He can't.

When lunch is over, Miku asks, "So are you going to sit with me next lunch?"

"Miku, I've got my own group, too." He tries not to sound cold but does anyway, considering the disheartened look on Miku's face. "Look, we don't even know each other that well. Maybe we could, I don't know, take it slow?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess so. That sounds good." She plays with her hair, looks at him expectantly. "I just thought..."

He tries something out; he kisses her. It's strange, having her respond immediately, urgently; like he's really important, like he's all she wants.

Len pulls back, and examines her. This is Miku Hatsune. He could do a lot worse. Much worse, actually. He tries smiling at her, to which she smiles back, says something about having to go to class, and leaves.

He's just not used to this, he decides. He isn't used to the attention so he doesn't know how to react to it, that's all. He's been alone for most of his life and this is just different. He'll get used to this eventually.

.

.

.

.

.

At home, his father is napping, sleeping on the couch. There's a bottle of whiskey next to him, on the coffee table.

He goes to his room and doesn't ask. He calls his mother and she doesn't pick up, so he leaves a voicemail about the Christmas dinner, tells her that he's coming.

_'Whether you like it or not,'_ he almost adds, but decides not to, because that's bitter, and his mother just ignores bitter.

.

.

.

.

On Tuesdays, he sits with Miku. Every other day, he sits with his own group. They go on a date or two, to cafés and amusement parks and things, but he can't help but feel a little strange, like he should be feeling more than he should. He looks down at Miku's expression and tries to understand what's so odd about it, until he realises that she's happy. She's just happy.

"So we're having this multicultural fair, and I was wondering if you wanted to help out." She keeps playing with his hand - loosening her grip, then tightening it. Then loosening her grip again and tightening it like he's no one else's.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Why not?" She beams at him, sending an uneasy feeling to his stomach. "When is it?"

"This Saturday. We're all meeting up on Friday night to pre-cook some of stuff, my house. Can you make it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I can make it. Text me your address."

"Okay!" she says excitedly. "Great! That's great!"

He smiles at her and she moves forward, wrapping both her arms around his. "So does that mean you're my boyfriend?" she says, voice deceptively playful.

"Well, yeah," he says, and she hugs him, burying her face in his chest. He hugs her back.

Dating Miku Hatsune is basically like dating her friends. They sit next to him in class and laugh too loudly and girlishly at his comments, touch his arm and ask for help with their homework. Everything is such a big deal with them. It's downright tiring.

One of them, Meiko, passes a note to him.

_'How much do you like/love Miku, on a scale of 1 to 10?'_

Annoyed, he writes back, '_None of your goddamned business.'_

.

.

.

.

.

They have their first fight on the second week of term three, right after she returns from Amsterdam. She had gone because of some audition or other and her friends had held a going away party, but he thought it was a moot point if whomever was going away was coming back in like, a week.

"Yeah, it _is _a moot point," Miku had snapped. "Just like going to a concert when you can listen to the music at home is a moot point, just like doing anything ever that isn't eating or sleeping is a moot point. God, Len, why do you always have to be so up yourself about these things? I swear, I don't get you."

The fight was about how he didn't call and only sent her two emails, as opposed to Meiko whose boyfriend IM'd her daily and sent her letters and blah blah blah.

One day at the end of class, Rin waits for him at the doorway. When he raises an eyebrow at her, she laughs, which shocks him a little.

"You hate it," she says, half-amused and half-bemused. "Hanging out with us, I mean. You hate it."

"Hate's kinda strong. It's alright," he says, pulling a bag strap over his shoulder. He could be treading on thin ice, here. "Just a little boring. I guess."

"You don't have to force yourself, you know," she says conversationally, like she understands him (and maybe she does. But he has to keep in mind that this is Rin Kagamine, who is nice and friendly and understands absolutely everyone; that's why she's so popular). "If you hate it, I mean."

He smiles. "Try telling Miku that."

She clamps her lips together at that, like she wants to tell him something but she can't.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I'm glad you helped. With the multicultural fair, I mean. You didn't have to. So you're coming to the Christmas dinner?" She looks oddly nervous. "Mum got the voicemail."

"Yeah, I'm coming. Figured I should probably get to know Mum's side of the family becausethey're, you know, family."

"Good! Good." She's fidgeting again. "I guess this is a little weird, huh?"

"What is?"

"Like... this entire thing. I remember, this friend of mine used to like you, and she'd ask and stuff but I didn't know what to say because I didn't really know you that well, and I still don't, and – wow, okay, that was really... I don't know. Um."

There's something about the way she's awkwardly manoeuvring about this conversation that makes him smile a little. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"You do, right? You do." She balls her fists together at her sides, as if she's self-conscious about her fidgeting. "Because people ask, you know. About you. Why you're not in the Vocaloids. Because you're so... um... antisocial."

"Right, yeah."

"But you're a cool guy. And you're _amazing _at singing. Like, from what I hear. And, from what I know. Miku seems to really, really like you."

Len isn't sure of what to say to that, so he just shrugs.

It's silent for a while, and he can feel Rin looking for conversation starters, some way to salvage the conversation. It's pretty nice of her, he thinks, so he says, "So how's schoolwork going for you?"

"Great! I mean, crap. But it's like, a good crap," she says. "So much work. I'm so not ready for senior year. I think I'm just going to flail. I mean, fail. But I guess flail works too."

"You talk fast," he remarks.

"I try not to, and I can actually talk faster," she says. "Like, really fast. Except then no one can understand what I'm saying, so I try to talk slower. But I guess it doesn't really work."

"Nah, you're fine," he says.

"Thanks." Back to fidgeting. "Well, okay. I should go to the spot. Are you coming with, or are you...?"

"Uh. I have to do some work in the library, so not this time."

She pauses, like she wants to say something again, but apparently thinks better of it. "Okay. No, that's cool. I'll let Miku know, I guess."

"Thanks, Rin."

She waves at him, almost shy, before leaving the classroom.

Yeah, she's pretty nice.

.

.

.

He's confronted by Miku on the fourth week of the term. She corners him in the classroom, livid and angry and every bit the embodiment of a woman scorned. "Is it _that _hard?" she yells. "To just – I don't know – _communicate_? Is it _that hard_? Not a _single _text, or call, or conversation – am I reaching for the stars here? Do you just not likeme or something?"

Len looks away, shoves his hands deep into his pockets and tries to think of a response. He fails miserably.

"You don't, do you?" she says quietly, solemn as any vow. "You don't like me at all."

"I _do _like you," he manages, frustrated because why _is it so hard? _He should just be able to _say_it. It's not like he doesn't like her. It's not like he's _lying_. Is this how messed up he is?

Despite his inner conflict, she seems to relax at his words. "It wouldn't hurt if you _showed _it," she mumbles, kind of folding in on herself, and he takes this opportunity to embrace her. She holds him tightly, like a lifeline, her pigtails digging into his chest. He can feel her shuddering a little, like she's cold, or like she's crying; maybe she's both?

Either, he holds her, and looking at her crying face, he thinks, for the first time ever: what is wrong with him?

.

.

.

Sometimes, when Miku's talking and he's not really listening, Rin shoots him this small, secret smile, like they have an injoke or something.

Even though they don't, not really, he smiles back anyway. He figures it must be a twin thing.

.

.

.

In the winter break, the Christmas dinner happens.

He gets there by taxi and looks up at his mother's house, figures she must have remarried some kind of millionaire. It's a massive, contemporary looking house, white and square with big window panels that seem to have specially engineered darkening qualities so that you can't actually see what's inside the house.

Rin's the one who answers the door.

"Hi!" she says, like she's out of breath. "Excuse the mess, we haven't _totally _cleaned up the place yet. We're still kind of cooking and stuff. Sorry about that."

"That's fine." He shrugs off his coat and to his surprise, she moves to take it off his hands- but he pulls it back, frowning in confusion. "What're you doing?"

"Putting your coat in the coat closet," she says, looking just as confused.

"No, I can... I can do that myself, Rin." Is that what she's done every Christmas? Taken off thecoats off their mother's guests and cooked and cleaned and prepared everything? Seriously? He puts his coat away, taking the opportunity to scan the place. There's so much _space_.

Then, a preppy, hair-slicked-back kind of guy appears into view, adjusting his tie. He raises his eyebrows at Len, then looks over at Rin. "Is this Len?"

"Yeah! He is," Rin answers quickly, before Len can say anything. "Len, this is Mum's husband. Liam. And his two kids, Jess and Sammy, they're here too. Upstairs."

He didn't even know that he _had _stepsiblings. Though he supposes they aren't _really _his siblings by any means. "Wow. Great. Nice to meet you, Liam."

"Nice to meet you too, Len," he says with a smile. "Sorry, I'd introduce myself but as you can see, there's a lot of things to be done. I'm sure we can get to know each other at dinner."

"Great. Sounds fun."

Liam walks off briskly, leaving them alone offers him a smile. "You kind of came a little early," she says, a little teasingly.

"Yeah, well, I was pretty certain that I'd get lost, so I left early."

"How'd you get here?"

"Taxi."

"Oh, okay. Well, um, I guess you can watch TV or something, while you wait. I'm just waiting for some of the food to finish up in the oven."

"Can I help?"

"Oh, um. You could set up the plates?" She glances over at the kitchen. "Although I'm not actually sure which set of plates we're supposed to use... I want to use these floral ones, but Sammy hates pink..."

Suddenly, Rin's personality starts making sense to him. She's practically a mother in her own home, accommodating to everyone like she does at school. She's had to deal with siblings, the stepfather, the busy mother...

He wonders how many times she's spent her days alone in this big, empty house.

"Floral sounds good. We should go for it," he says, trying to sound upbeat, and this big smile just _spreads _on Rin's face.

"You're right! Let's go crazy. Yay floral!" she squeals, clapping her hands together and grinning widely. "I've been _dying _to use the floral pinky ones, but Sammy was always like, ew, it's so girly, but I really like it. And I think you'll like it too. I mean, if you're into that sort of thing."

Len, into floral, pink plates? "...Sure."

She makes another little excited noise, and rushes into the kitchen, Len following behind her. He almost swears. It's the _biggest monster_ of a white kitchen, and everything's curved and futuristic and flat, nothing like his ordinary, non-working-oven kitchen.

"Okay. So -" she takes out what looks like a heavy set of plates and cutlery, and he quickly rushes over to help her. She smiles at him in gratitude. "Forks on the left, knives on the put the spoons on the right side of the knives, and a few butter knives in each of the bread baskets, which I'll take out soon..."

"So much effort for one night," he remarks, setting and placing the plates down.

"Well, what do you usually do for Christmas dinner?" she inquires politely, glancing up at him briefly.

He frowns in thought, trying to reel back to last year's Christmas. He'd eaten chicken, peas and carrots with his father in utter silence.

"Just ate with my family," he says, and it sounds kind of like a lie, even though it isn't. "It was more casual than this, though."

"Ooh, cool," she says, and he almost laughs at how forcedly enthused she sounds.

"You don't have to do that." She looks up at him, puzzled. "Be all nice and interested. I don't really care if you think what I do on Christmas is interesting or not."

"I _am _interested," she insists.

"Right, okay. Sorry."

He feels her look on him for one, two seconds, before she returns to setting the plates down.

The dinner starts at eight. It's a little strange, sitting next to twenty people he's related to. After the appetisers, their mother stands up with a grand smile, lips a dark scarlet to match her dress; she holds up her wine glass proudly.

"I'd like to introduce you all to my son, Len, who has _lovingly _decided to join us for a Christmas dinner this year," she announces, and everyone claps, smiling over at him like he's welcome. But he can't bring himself to feel comfortable around them, frustratingly enough.

He doesn't like it. Doesn't like the bright lights and the big smiles and the people he's never met before. He knows he's being bratty, that he's not exactly making the biggest attempt to get to know these people, either; but these are just people from another world altogether. He doesn't like it.

And what's worse is that he _knew _he wouldn't like it – wouldn't like watching his mother have the time of her life on the other side of the table, barely acknowledging his presence. He's stewing in his own self-pity and frankly, he has no idea what had him come here in the first place.

"Are you okay, Len?" Rin asks, eyes inquiring and curious. Her face is kind of perfect, actually._She _should fit in here. And she does. And yet somehow, she doesn't.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replies, taking a bite of the turkey. "Thanks anyway."

And then there's one, two minutes of mutual familial silence before they all hear a crash-shatter of glass from the far end of the table. Alarmed, Rin immediately darts out of her seat, looking over at the obstruction.

"Mum?"

"Elaine, what's wrong? Sweetheart -"

"Rin, clean up the glass, someone's bound to step on it -"

"I'll do it," Len says, because he feels like he wants to, deciding to walk past his mother and into the kitchen.

He hears this loud, almost animal-like moan, and it startles him to think that it's his mother. He glances over his shoulder and finds her burying her head in her palms, like she has a headache. Liam's hands are on her shoulders, whispering things to her, while Rin is in front of her, endlessly calling out, "Mum? Mum? Mum? Mum, what's wrong -"

"God, don't _even_." Like Miku did, it's like she's folding into herself, burying into herself, crawling up inside her little shell. Is she drunk? Or is she just having a strange meltdown?

Hesitantly, he walks over to where the glass is, tries to clean it up discreetly. This feels like another one of those things. Another one of those things that he shouldn't be witnessing, seeing. He looks up to see his mother pushing Rin away, standing up shakily like she's about to shatter to pieces. He watches, though he's unsure of whether it's in concern or fascination; he's never seen anyone do this before. When dad's upset, he just drinks and passes out on the couch.

"Mum..."

"You want to know what's wrong?" his mother whispers, but it's the heaviest of words he's ever heard said before. "Really, Rin? Do you _really want_ to know? Ask your _stepfather_, maybe he'll tell you."

"Jesus, Elaine," Liam says, all the love lost in his tone. "Don't tell me that _that's _what you're getting yourself into a mess about."

Like he's struck her, she stiffens and darts out of her seat, almost hitting Rin. She stares at Liam, right in the eye. "_Really_, Liam? _Really_? You spending our _fucking _money on girls and gambling -"

"It wasn't _girls _and _gambling_," he hisses, as if whispering it would make it any more discreet.

"Oh right. Only _one _girl, isn't there? Only _one_slut?" Her shout is almost a gurgle, full of tears and a lodged throat. She pushes at Liam violently, and his eyes go darker, like he wants to push her back.

Len looks over at Rin, who's standing there uncomfortably. Outside Liam and Rin, there is a silence overwhelming the other relatives, who are just staring at the scene and whispering amongst themselves.

"Elaine, this isn't the time to be discussing this," Liam says, in that cold, even tone.

"Oh? When, then? I haven't seen you all month, not until today, and you have the _nerve_ to – to pretend like everything's alright, like you haven't absolutely _destroyed _our family –"

Liam seems to recoil – out of shock or out of hurt, Len's not sure. "Are you drunk?"

"_No_! I'm just being _honest_. For _once_."

He slides the glass into the bin, and the dustpan and brush back in its original spot.

"Well, good work, Elaine," he says. "Best timing. Don't think you could be any more inappropriate than you are now."

"Mum..." Rin says feebly. "Mum, how about we go out for a walk, okay? A nice, relaxing walk -"

"You always do this. You always _patronise _me, and you leave me here, alone, in this big house with no one else -"

"For God's sake, Elaine," he mutters. "You're not a _child_. You're the one who decided to give up her career to become a 'housewife'. If anyone's ruined your life, it's _you_."

Then she lets out a blood curdling scream, covers her face with her hands again. She sobs and sobs and sobs, cries out, hits Liam on his chest, and eventually everyone has the good nature to leave the room with their plates, making polite, stilted chit chatter as the echoes of their argument hit the walls.

Len looks over at Rin, who just watches their mother tiredly, with a kind of grim acceptance and resignation. "I guess," she says quietly, "we should just finish our dinner."

He's left staring at her, this woman he barely knows, this woman who is his mother.

The rest of the night is poundingly silent.

.

.

.

When he's about to leave, Rin approaches him, tugs on his sleeve lightly in this quiet, shy way. She's so pale looking in the cold night, so small. Her mouth is pulled down into a serious line, her eyes are clouded. She doesn't look at him.

"Can I stay with you for a while?" she says, so soft that he almost doesn't hear her. "I'm just- I don't know, can I? Is that okay? I'm just..."

He blinks at her, at the tiredness that's hanging over her. It looks wrong on her, the tiredness. Like a kind of dying bird. "I'll call my dad," he says, reaching out for his phone and dialling the number. His father picks up on the first ring.

"Len?"

"Hey, dad. Something kind of happened at mum's place, and I was wondering if Rin could stay with us."

She's fidgeting again. He almost wants to take her hands and calm her. But that would just be awkward. "Of course," his dad says, in this _I-know-how-your-mum-gets _kind of tone. "Of course Rin can stay."

Len nods at Rin. "You can stay."

Her smile is small. "Thanks, Len."

He doesn't really need to be thanked, he thinks, but whatever. "No problem."

.

.

.

The first night with Rin is the quietest night he's ever spent, even though in reality, he's had quieter. She sleeps in his room, which is kind of alarming on its own, because it's _his _room and God knows what she could find if she goes snooping around there. But his – their father insists that she sleeps in a bed, and not on a couch, because '_God knows what Elaine has done to you while you were there fending for yourself for so many years'_. And he wonders why, if their mother is so dangerous, why their father hasn't taken in Rin before this.

The walls are thin, and he can hear her toss and turn in her sleep.

He stays awake the entire night, eyes open, staring at the ceiling and the cracks in it. He tries to place his finger on what he's feeling, on why tonight feels so different; and that's when he realises, with an exhale, with a rush of pushed air, something like relief and unease all at once - he's not alone.

.

.

.

He wakes up to the smell of pancakes.

There Rin is, making pancakes in their ordinary, non-working-oven kitchen. He walks over to her, watching her as she hums to herself.

"Rin," he says, and she starts, almost dropping the pan.

"Len! You scared me." She smiles at him, like nothing's happened. Like she's always been here, making pancakes every morning. "Sorry, do you like pancakes? I just thought I'd make them, because..."

She trails off, looks at him to say something. "I'm lactose-intolerant," he says apologetically, and her face falls.

"Wow, I can't believe I didn't even know that. I'm so sorry. Um. I guess I'll just leave the rest for dad?"

"I don't think he'll be back until eight," Len says.

She stares at him. "But it's... yesterday was Christmas," she says, baffled. He's a little baffled himself. He's never had to explain his dad to anyone before.

"He's just like that," he says, pulling out some leftovers from the fridge and popping it into the microwave. "He has a lot of work to do."

"What does he do?"

"I don't know. Some kind of accounting. I've never really asked."

"But he's your dad!"

He looks at her. "He's _your _dad, too."

She bites her lip and doesn't respond to that; instead she chooses to turn back around to the stove and flip one of the pancakes. So he goes to sit down on the couch, tapping his foot.

.

.

.

On the second week of their winter break, Miku calls him.

"How was your Christmas?" she asks.

"Same old."

"But didn't you go to Rin's this time, instead of just spending it with your dad?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't much different. There was food. Some presents."

"What'd you get?"

"Nothing interesting. What about you?"

"Oh, I'm getting a car. But I haven't chosen what kind yet." Which is impressive in itself, but she says it in that casual way that makes him pretend that buying a car would be totally normal for him, too. "Anyway, I was thinking we could go to the fair this Saturday? With Kaito and the others?"

From where he is, he can see Rin arranging some flowers on the table, humming to herself again. "I don't know, Miku... I kind of want to stay home and chill."

"Oh." Her voice has that high note, that high note of surprise and displeasure. He sighs inwardly. She'll act all understanding now, then talk about it with her girlfriends, and then yell at him for it later. "Well, I could come over. Your dad's never home, right?"

"I guess that'll work," he says. "By the way, Rin's staying with us. Just to let you know."

Rin looks over at the sound of her name, smiles at him. He smiles back.

"Seriously? Why? Is her mum away with Liam?"

"Yeah," he says. "Something like that."

"Man, her family's _weird," _Miku sighs. "Oh, I guess your family, too. But you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. Look, Miku, I'll catch you later, alright?"

She snorts over on the other end, and he can imagine her rolling her eyes. "Whenever you make a promise like that, you almost _never_ follow it up..."

"Alright. You can call me later tonight, then. After dinner."

"Mmmm. Okay. I'll talk to you then."

"See ya." He hangs up, presses the phone against his lips in thought. He looks over at Rin, who's watching him with an unreadable look. "Miku," he explains, though he really doesn't have to, and she nods.

"I could tell," she says. "Is she coming over anytime soon?"

"Nah. It's just us for today."

"Oh. Okay. That's cool. I guess I'll... um... do some homework." She hovers on the spot, like she's unsure of what to actually do, and he supposes he would too, in her position.

"We could always watch TV. Maybe some Jersey Shore. I hear you're into that." He grins, and she flushes, and he's not sure why but he thinks today's going to be a good day.

.

.

.

**NOTE: **Let me know what you think – on how I can improve, pacing-wise and writing-wise, and what you'd like to see more of. Less angst, more angst, more anger, less anger, more fluff, less fluff, that kind of thing. Thanks for reading :)


	2. i have to catch everybody if

**TITLE: **born out of thorns  
**SUMMARY: **It is the most terrifying and horrifying feeling when Len realises he's in love with his siter. Rin/Len. Incest.  
**Rating: **M for the incest and other things =)  
**NOTES: **Thanks so much for the response, guys! =) You guys are AWESOME. Anyway, I lied. This isn't a twoshot. It's a threeshot. Maybe even go onto a fourshot. Or a fiveshot. Gahh.

Like I said before, these are honestly just separated parts of a oneshot that spanned over thirty pages (well, fifty now), and it was becoming so long that it was started to crack my head open whenever I edited it.

And again, if there are missing words or words that are justlikethis, please let me know! Ffnet has a weird way of weirding up my docs. Phoo you ffnet.

/

Over the winter break, he learns things about Rin. She's one of those incredibly annoying morning people who make perfectly-balanced, continental breakfasts aimed to 'boost your metabolism' and freshen you up for the day. She feels the need to go out for runs every so often, a kind of exercise that Len finds totally foreign. And she likes painting her toenails light blue, because, according to her, "Mum said it's like having a piece of the sky... on your feet."

Which doesn't really make that much sense to him, but whatever.

And whenever she's done with the shower, it's always musky with the scent of oranges and citrus and girl. Which is weird, having only lived with guys – well, his dad – for his entire life. She tries to nag them, and it fails because she's always so self-conscious about being polite ("Len? You _always _leave the toilet seat up – not that I mind, except I really, really do, and um, just put it down but if it's too inconvenient, you don't have to, and I know I'm being totally rude because you're letting me stay here out of good will and but it just _really, really _bugs me –")

She's oddly healthy, if that makes sense. She's all about exercising and eating right and doing everything on time – perfection, that's what she's all about. Every morning she'll go out on the balcony and sing different notes, different pitches, voice light and airy but strong. Her voice is kind of beautiful, actually, except he thinks that that would sound as gay out loud as it does in his mind, so he never says anything about it.

Secretly, he envies her. His days, especially in the holidays, are always a blur – he can never remember if it's Monday or Friday or Sunday and never bothers making food beyond the odd instant noodles. Sometimes he'll wake up in the morning and stay in bed for the entire day, not really thinking about anything and yet thinking about absolutely everything, and sometimes he'll wake up two in the afternoon and decide that MasterChef is worth getting out of bed for. And he'll talk, sometimes – but nothing understandable. He might mutter lines of a movie he's watched too many times, or incoherently mumble a song that's been in his head for days.

She talks to herself too, but it's clear and vibrant in the air. It's always improvised stuff like "What will I do today? I think I will make myself some yummy eggs, yummy yummy yummy, yum yum for my tum tum –" and when her song elevates into entirely new leagues of silliness he always starts laughing (quietly, though) because it sounds so _stupid_, and then he grins to himself because he can imagine her complete embarrassment, painted all over her face.

She hasn't talked about her parents, although it's occurred to him to ask. But honestly, he'd just feel like absolute crap if she started ranting and wailing and he, with his limited social ability, just left her sitting there. He never wants to do something like that to Rin. It'd be like kicking a puppy.

/

"You don't go out with Miku much, do you?" Rin says one morning, after forcing him out of bed to eat her omelette.

The question doesn't really register in his mind, so he just shrugs. "Yummy omelette," he mumbles, and she giggles lightly.

"Miku always made it sound like you guys went out all the time," she continues, and if he were awake, he'd notice something weird about her tone. But he's not, so he doesn't.

"Yeah, we don't. I stay at home a lot."

"How come?"

"I don't like people," he says, having a big gulp of apple juice.

"Why not? What's wrong with people?"

He tries to rub the crust of sleep off of his eyes and shrugs again. "I don't know. I like my space."

"Well, if you grew up with just a dad, maybe you're just used to being alone and independent," she suggests.

"Maybe," he says lamely.

"So... does me being here make you uncomfortable?" she asks lightly.

He feels a bristle of unease. She's doing that thing again. That thing that makes everyone think that she's their best friend. "It's fine," he says shortly, standing up to put his plate in the sink.

"Are you sure?"

He doesn't look at her, and starts walking back to his room. "Thanks for the omelette," he calls over his shoulder.

/

Then school starts.

Seeing her at school is weird because he's gotten so used to seeing her at home. And sometimes halfway through the day he'll smell orange and citrus and realise that he's wearing Rin's jumper and he has to call her up to switch – and she'll laugh and say, "Yeah, I thought it was weird that I could smell Lynx deodorant like, everywhere." (It's not Lynx, but whatever.)

The word that they've started living together spreads, but not in an obvious way. A lot of people assume that their parents got back together, and because it's easier to nod than explain _no_, no they're _not _back together, their mum is just totally batshit and Rin just needs somewhere to stay for her own safety. Sometimes he wishes he could say that, just to see how people react. But that's only sometimes.

Weirdly enough, their dad is extremely fond of Rin (then again, who isn't?). He's always giving her money for supplies and stuff and she always thanks him with the brightest of smiles. Len supposes she's sort of like the child he's never had – enthusiastic and conversational and effortlessly friendly.

She makes them dinner every Monday night and it's the best food he's ever had, which is another thing he doesn't think he'll ever say out loud. But he thinks she knows anyway because she's a people person, even when she's around someone like him, who isn't really a people person at all.

"You two don't really talk, don't you?" Rin says one day, about him and his dad, and he just shrugs.

"We're guys," he says. "Enough said."

"Don't you guys go fishing? Or... I don't know, play basketball?"

He almost laughs. Fishing and basketball? Trust Rin to say something like that. "I think that if you took him out to any place non-air conditioned he'd hyperventilate," he says wryly.

Her lips twist but it's not quite a smile. "I think you two would really get along."

"We _do _get along. Just in silence."

"That doesn't seem normal to me."

"Well it is," he says, trying to sound firm but nice at the same time. Instead he just sounds kind of pissed off, which he doesn't know how to apologise for. She looks at him, looking a little wary, but otherwise doesn't reply.

/

On the third week of term, she starts bringing lunch up to his usual spot near the library.

"I can see why you like the place," she says pleasantly. "It's very... um..."

"It's a hole," he says, taking the lunchbox tentatively. He examines it like he's not sure what to do with it. Which he isn't. "Thanks, but you don't have to."

She snorts, something so out of character with her sunshine-and-daisies persona that he smiles a little. He decides he likes it.

"Um, yeah I did. Everything you eat is just gross."

He looks down at his chips and instant noodles, then up at her in mock-disbelief. "What're you talking about? It's practically a banquet for one."

She eyes it like it's an alien slug threatening to devour her. "...Right. You don't want to join us for lunch, by any chance, do you?"

"Nah, I'm good here." He gestures towards his music sheets and homework, all laid out in front of him. "I've got a lot of work to do."

"What're you working on?"

"Ancient history, mostly."

"Oh. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's not too bad. I've always liked history, so."

"You should become a historian!" she suddenly chirps, and he stares at her, bemused. "Um," she says, nervous again. "Your dad just sort of said – how you didn't know what to do when you got out of high school, so I just –"

"It's fine," he says, piling up his papers to place back in his bag. He's not sure how he feels about his dad talking to Rin about him – what do they say? What does he say? What does _she _say? Good things, bad things? Do they laugh about him?

"I know, it was random and weird, I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry. Where are you going?"

"Library," he says briskly. "I'm not hungry."

"Oh, okay. Well, see you at home?"

"Yeah, sure. See you." He stands up, hauling his bag over his shoulder with lunch in hand. "Thanks for lunch."

She hands him lunch every other day of the week, with a little note saying _for Len _on top of the box like it's a gift. The food tastes good, really good, and every time he swallows it down it feels too thick; it lodges in his throat, and settles like a rock in his stomach. It tastes like guilt, though he's not sure why.

/

"So I've tried out for _Flowers in Florence_." He almost groans. He knows where this is going. "And they're still looking for a male part, _and_..."

"Uh, _no_, Rin. Just no."

"Come _on_." She looks at him, all pleading. "You'd be _perfect _for it. Your voice is _amazing_. And there's a piano part and you're _way _better than Kaito, so you totally have an advantage. And it'd look great on your, um, resume."

"Somehow I don't think musical experience is going to help me win a job at McDonalds or anything, Rin –"

"What if, like, you woke up and suddenly decided you wanted to serenade people for the rest of your life? You'd have to become a – a – serenader! What if you wanted to do that? And then an employer rebuffed you because you never starred in a musical? Then what'll you do, huh?"

"There is no such thing as a _serenader_."

"Oh, whatever. Come on, Len, you'd be _really_, really good. And Kaito's great and everything but I think that a lot of people don't know how good you really are – I mean, everyone knows you're _good_, but they don't know _how _good. And I really want them to know."

"Thanks, Rin, but –"

"Can't you just audition? One, tiny audition? For me? I'd love to work with you! It'd be so much fun, and Dad could watch, and it'd be –"

"_Weird_. Rin, it's a _romantic _musical. I'm your _brother_. Even if I got the part - it'd just be - I don't know. Awkward. Weird."

The way he says it seems to offend her somehow, and she stares at him, looking a little taken aback. "It's just a _musical_," she says, in a curt way that makes him think he's annoyed her or something.

"Look, I didn't mean to, I don't know, hurt your feelings –"

"No, you're right," she says, her tone strange. "It would be weird. I mean, like, there's a kissing scene in the third act, and we wouldn't be able to do that, anyway. That's just gross, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Suddenly, he feels very uncomfortable. "It's pretty gross."

/

Sometimes he hears her talking to her mother on the phone, huddled up in the bathroom. She always sits on the toilet seat, her knees to her chest. Sometimes he thinks about eavesdropping, but he never does.

Even though he can't make out the words, she never does sound too happy to talk to their mum. Sometimes, he thinks that she's crying, but he doesn't have the nerve or the courage to push the door open and ask if she's alright. So instead he decides to put a box of tissues on the counter, and some snacks – the weird Asian crap that she's always buying for like, 90 cents a packet – and hopes that she doesn't think of his mild consolation as patronising.

But he supposes Rin doesn't really think that way, does she? She's not like him, all bitter and paranoid and cynical. She looks at the best of everybody and pulls it out, nurtures it like a pet.

Either way, he finds the empty Asian wrappers in the bin, so he must be doing something right.

/

On the ninth week of term, the day before Rin's musical play, he decides to sit with them.

Miku's been giving him the cold shoulder for weeks now, and he doesn't blame her. So when he sits down next to her and she inches away, he's not surprised. But after murmuring a _"_I'm sorry, it's just that everything's really hectic" she seems to relax. She leans in and murmurs, "I understand. We'll talk about it later, okay?" and he just nods. He's not going to question why she's being unusually understanding – dating Hatsune Miku has made him acutely aware of the fact that she has no problem with starting a screaming match, even in the cafeteria.

"Ooh, yay," Rin quips from the other side of the table. "Now I don't have to go all the way up to the library." She leans over and hands him his lunchbox, which he takes from her with an awkward thank you.

"Rin makes you your _lunch_?" Miku says, incredulous. "That's insane! I wish someone could make me my lunch. Len, make me lunch!"

He snorts. "Sure, if you want my _gourmet le peanut butter sandwich_."

"Yuck. No thank you." She prods one of the sandwiches in his lunch box – filled with lettuce and tomato and baloney and all those other things that make up a good sandwich. "You know, apparently Suzume and Ash hooked up? _They _made each other lunches, too. Well, they still do."

See U pipes up from the other side of the table, wrinkling her face in disgust. "Ew, they make a terrible couple."

"I _know_. Every time he hugs her he looks like he's about to eat her. They look so awkward. Absolutely _no _chemistry. I bet one of them's gay."

"Well, Ash is really good at cooking. So it's probably him."

"Oh, I don't know. Suzume's really mannish-looking, I wouldn't be surprised if it was her."

"Could be both of them. Like a double-beard kind of thing."

"Oh my God, you guys. Maybe they just genuinely like each other, okay? I'm pretty sure Suzume's straight, anyway, she's always talking about how she wants to date an older guy –"

As per usual, Len remains silent, and in his silence he realises that Rin isn't saying anything, either. He's not sure why _she's _so quiet – has she always been this quiet? – but there's something off about her today.

He crumples up a piece of paper and throws it at her. She jumps a little, like a startled cat. "You could've just called my name," she says, taking the paper ball and unscrunching it. But she's smiling, a small amused curl of the lips that has him grinning.

"You alright?" he says, and Miku mock-gasps next to him.

"Wow. Len asking over someone else's wellbeing? Someone should record this down," she laughs, and it kind of stings – though he can't blame her. "But Rin's always the exception, I guess. _Are _you alright? You look so down."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Rin answers meekly. "I just have a headache."

"Oh. Maybe you should go to the sick bay."

"I think I might." She stands up, and he realises that she does look a little paler. In fact, everything about her is just... deadish. Or maybe it's just the lighting.

Still. He frowns. It's like watching a canary limp to its death. "I can take you home," he offers, but she shakes her head.

"I think I want to be alone," she says, and she walks off.

"Aw. It's cool that you're so sweet to your sister," Miku says, smiling up at him.

"Thanks," he says, but there's something about his tone that makes the word feel strange in his mouth. He ignores it.

/

When he comes home from school, she's huddled on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn in front of her, tissues littered everywhere. His entrance seems to shock her into movement and she quickly throws away all her tissues and combs her fingers through her hair, face flushed.

"Oh gosh, that must be so gross," she says. "The tissues, I mean. Sorry, I didn't think you'd be home so early."

Home. In that moment, it sort of strikes him how odd the situation is; Rin Kagamine calls their dingy, guy-littered apartment 'home'.

He shrugs. "I had a free period." He dumps his bag on the floor and sits next to her on the sofa, smirking when he sees what she's watching. "_The Bachelorette? _Really?"

"It's a good show," she sniffs. "Do you want some of my blanket?"

"Yeah, sure." He lets her throw some of the blanket over his legs, moving a little closer to him. "You feeling better?"

"Sort of," she says, blowing her nose again. She aims the tissue at the bin and fails. "I have no idea what I'm going to do about the musical."

"Don't you have, like, understudies for that?"

"Yeah, Miku's my understudy. I guess she'll be thrilled, considering Kaito and all," she says, and it's the bitchiest tone he's ever heard from her.

He raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"Oh God! No, I mean – I didn't mean that she _likes _him or anything, just – shit," she mumbles, and blows her nose again. A talking head of the Bachelorette appears on the screen, talking about how she dreams to find true love and settle down and how even though she knows she's hot, she's honestly like every other average looking girl.

"I just mean," she tries, "that... oh, I don't know. I'm ill. I'm sick. I'm dying. I don't know what I'm saying."

"She likes him?" He's not sure how he feels about that. Miku liking Kaito behind his back? In all fairness, he really can't blame her. He's honestly the worst boyfriend ever. But he's still not exactly happy about it.

"Like is a bit, um, hardcore. It's more like... she's always had a _thing _for him. But he doesn't want to date until university."

"Then why is she dating me?"

"I dunno. Why are you dating _her_? You don't even seem to like her that much. At least, from what Miku says," she quickly adds.

She has a point. "I don't know. We made out. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

She aims for the bin again, and loses. "Romantic," she comments.

He rolls his eyes. "You're mean when you're sick."

"I know, it's very bad." She brings her knees to her chest and grips onto the blanket tightly, yawning. "Can I lean on your shoulder? Or is that weird?" she mumbles.

He pauses to consider that – _no, it's probably not a good idea, it's a very bad idea – _but for the life of him, he can't think of why, excluding his usual _I don't like people _thing. Which, if he's totally honest, isn't really the case with Rin. So he nods mutely, and stiffens when he feels her hair, soft and wispy, against his neck.

They watch The Bachelorette in painful silence. He's suddenly very aware of his own breathing, swallowing, every little noise that his body makes. She's really, really warm, almost too warm. He can't shift because it would mean shifting her, too.

"Mum doesn't want me back home," she says quietly, breaking the silence.

He stills, unsure of what to say. "Why not?"

"Because she and Liam need to work on their relationship. Which means they'll probably go to Barbados and came back all tan and happy until one of them gets bored again and – and does bad stuff with other people."

The bitterness feels familiar, sounds familiar. He relaxes a little against her, leaning his head on top of hers. "She's a shitty mum," he murmurs. "You're a good daughter, though."

Her hand touches his school shirt briefly, absentmindedly. "Thanks. And thanks for the Asian food."

His heart jumps and he's not sure why, so he just tries to sound casual. "Who says it was me? It could've been Dad."

"But it was you." He can feel her thigh against his. Alarms are going off at the back of his head. "You're a good..." _brother_, is what she's supposed to say. "...Friend."

"It's what I aim to be," he says.

She laughs a little, and it's silent again.

"Don't take what Mum says to heart," he says, in an attempt to alleviate the heaviness on her mind. He can feel it, can feel the solemnity resonating from her. "She's... really self-involved, from the looks of it. And you've turned out good anyway, so you should be, I don't know, proud. Everyone loves you."

"For someone who isn't a people person," she says, "you're pretty consolidating."

"Yeah, well. You're not just 'people', you're my sister."

Rin lifts her head up, smiling a little sadly. Her eyes are really, really blue, and all those alarms are telling him to look away and make some stupid, absurdly mean remark about the TV show, but he's paralysed; he can't move. His mouth is dry. His chest is so tight.

The smell of citrus and oranges is creating fog in his head, filling up his chest with something he can't even describe. Every part of his body that's touching her – his thigh, his shoulder, his arm, his neck – it's going hyperactive, the nerves dancing underneath his skin. For a moment, there's just her softness and her scent, the feel of her hair and the weight of her leg against his -

And then he feels a surge of hot pressure go straight to his groin, and the horrifying realisation of what's going on slams him right back to reality. He jumps up abruptly, unable to look at Rin at all, relishing in the cold air that's brushing against his skin. He can hear his heart hammering so hard that he's almost worried that she can hear it, too.

"What's wrong, Len?" she asks, looking confused. "You don't look well. Did you catch my cold?"

"I think I need to take a shower," he says tersely, rubbing his arms. The room is cold but everything inside of him is practically on fire, burning. "I just – it's been a long day."

"O-okay," she says, but before she can say anymore he storms off into the bathroom, roughly pushing on the shower handle; he quickly shoves off his clothes as water streams out onto him, the pounding of his heart slowing down.

He leans his head against the shower wall, breathing hard, trying to make sense of all those feelings and sensations bombing him all at once. He wants to tear out his own hair, he wants to crawl out of his own skin.

"Shit," he breathes, low so that she can't hear him. "Shit, shit, _shit_."

/

Time, all of a sudden, is very slow. It's only the fifth week of term – two weeks – but it feels like everything's just been dragging on. Sludging.

It doesn't help to watch Rin – who's so energetic and impossibly cheerful – function in his apartment. She's always _going _someplace or doing something, always putting in a ridiculous amount of effort into, well, _everything_. It doesn't occur to him how much she's always around until now. Because now he doesn't want her to be there. Not because he doesn't like her, or anything, but because – well, damn it. Damn it, damn it, _damn it_.

After the incident, she'd asked him if she made him feel uncomfortable. She said that she knew he was closed, and probably still not all that used to her, so she totally understood if he wanted some space or whatever. He hates that sometimes. How nice she is. He knows he'll hurt her feelings if he tells her that yeah, he wants space, and that she should probably leave him alone. And he doesn't want to hurt her feelings or anything like that. Far from it. Not Rin, _never _Rin.

But this – this _attraction,_ whatever it is (oh God, thinking about it just makes him feel sick) is just – _unacceptable_. He can deal with a crush on a female friend. Hell, crushing on a _male _friend would've been less confusing. But your sister? Jesus Christ. It's not just morally wrong, but _illegal_.

At first he'd thought, well, maybe he's just frustrated. It's been ages since him and Miku did anything and now it's all built up and found itself the nearest female it could, and it just _happened _to be his sister. It's got nothing to do with her.

Except even he's not that self-deluded. All those small feelings – the flutters and the smiles and the lunches and whatever – they all happened. When he's with Rin, he thinks about Rin. When he's not with Rin, he thinks about Rin. And he passed it off as curiousity about his sibling – because _that's _acceptable. Except now he knows it isn't just curiousity, it's just outright, revolting, _weird _ - ugh, damn it.

He hates looking at her. He hates looking at her and feeling his stomach lurch uncomfortably, followed by that flush of shame.

_She's your sister_, he thinks, trying to assert that cold, hard fact into his mind. _She's your sister, she's your sister_.

Except she's also Rin, and Rin's anything but cold; she's warm and sweet and caring and hardworking and so beautiful it almost hurts.

He's so disgusted with himself.

/

His mother calls him.

"Len? Len – are you there?"

It takes him a moment to recover. Because she never calls. Not unless she's demanding some form of child support.

"Yeah, Mum," he says, his voice scratchy. He clears his throat. "I'm here."

"Are you alright?"

The sincerity in her voice catches him off-guard. He frowns. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. How about you?"

She ignores the question. "Listen, Len... I know we haven't spoken in a long time. But I'm hearing scary things about you, Len."

Uh, okay. "Scary things?"

"Things like how you've been throwing up a lot, and how your studies aren't up to scratch. Apparently you look sick all the time. Rin's very worried."

Throwing up a lot? Well, yeah, maybe once or twice – but that's not because... that's not...

"Don't worry, Mum, I'm not pregnant," he deadpans. "And I'm just lacking in motivation. It's not a big deal." _And none of your business_.

"You should really see a counsellor if you're stressed, honey. Or I can send you to someone who specialises in –"

"What the hell is Rin telling you?" he snaps, the words out of his mouth before he even realises it. When a heavy pause fills the air, he realises that he could keep going. Yell at her. Lecture her. Scream out everything he's ever thought about her, tell her exactly what he thinks of that stunt she pulled on Christmas –

"You've grown very fond of each other, haven't you?" she says.

What?

Fond of each other? What's that supposed to mean? Does she know? Does she suspect something? He tries to replay it over in his head, tries to hear out any possible suspicion in her tone, but the silence seems to be deafening in its own way and he can't hear anything in his head.

"Yeah," he settles for, his fingers tightening against the phone.

"I didn't want to upset you, honey. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for you."

"…Okay, Mum."

"Alright."

It feels like how it is with his father. Awkward, stifled, and filled with half-hearted gestures. He wonders what the sudden interest is all about, but it's like his tongue has been clamped down. The words die out in his throat.

"Well, I'll call you again, Len."

"…Okay. Bye."

/

"I threw up _once_."

It's a Sunday afternoon and she's painting something for art class. She had been humming, but as soon as he had entered the room, she stopped.

Rin blinks and looks over at him, the brush limp in her hand. He's not sure why he's said it now, of all times.

"I know," she says quietly, placing the brush on the newspaper she'd strewn underneath her. She stands up and faces him, eyebrows furrowed. "But I was really worried."

"So you told your mother?" he says flatly, but that tinge of condescension tilts his voice at the end.

"_Our _mother," she corrects.

"Yeah, I know. We're related. I get it." It sounds a lot more spiteful than he means to, so he tries to shrug, make it seem like some kind of awkward off-hand remark. She's stiff in front of him, like she thinks he's about to yell at her, or totally explode. Or both.

"Look," he tries. "I appreciate it, Rin. I really do. So thanks. But I'm fine."

Her lips twist like she wants to say something, so he sighs and says, "What?"

"Oh, I dunno!" She props herself back down on the floor, brush in hand. "I kind of felt like we were going somewhere. With this whole… you not liking people thing."

"So… what, I was some kind of personal pet project?"

"Yes! Except that sounds really bad. I just – like, of all the people in our school, I know you the least. And I was thinking, like, what the hell! That's just plain ridiculous. We should just be _friends_. And then maybe you might start liking people! And I thought, okay, maybe it's because our parents are so weird and self-absorbed and neither of them really, you know, _look _at you. And I know how that feels because Mum never looks at me either, except now she's trying to change and um - are you following?"

He looks at her, and nods slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm following."

"I mean, _we _can still be a family," she says, glancing up at him. "_We _can still, I don't know, keep it together. And I worry that, you know, you don't like people because you're just sad, and –"

"_Sad_?"

"No, not sad, just – I don't mean it like that, I don't mean it like you're pathetic or anything." She bites her lip and it turns red, and he realises that she's been biting it for a while. There's an insistent little sore.

And then he realises he's staring at her mouth and quickly moves his gaze to her eyes.

"Look, Rin, I appreciate you trying to... help me, but I don't need help."

"I know me leaning my head on your shoulder was kind of awkward," she says, wringing her hands and looking up at him, all pleading, "and you must have been so uncomfortable but I totally pressured you, I am so sorry, I'm just – I'm think I'm a really sort of touchy feely person except I'm not really like that with _anyone _because I've never felt, you know, _safe, _but you make me feel, you know. Safe. And I really like that about you, Len, because you don't _pretend _and you have no idea how weird that is to see someone like that, in front of me, doing and acting and _being_, and... do you get what I mean?"

He stares at her.

Yeah, yeah he does. He does because he understands that feeling – that feeling he gets when they smile, in sync, that feeling he gets when she's giving him lunch, that feeling he gets when his dad starts barking out ridiculous threats on the phone and they both look at each other and snigger, that _weird_ feeling, that twist in his stomach. And it's here, _now_, as they're looking at each other, her eyes asking and his eyes answering. Everything's at _ease_.

But that's not what she's talking about. It's a sick path down the _beginning _of what she's talking about. And he kind of wants to say _yeah_, I know what you mean, and then say something like _it's okay, Rin, touching me is okay _except he's sure that it sounds as seedy out loud as it does in his head, and the fact that a small part of him would even want to say _anything _like that just makes him sick to his stomach.

And he's got to stop this. He's really, really got to stop this.

"I know I sound stupid –"

"You don't, and you're not."

She seems surprised at his conviction. "I... thank you." She's smiling now, gently, so soft and sweet.

And against his better judgement, he smiles too, like her smile is contagious. And it is. It always is.

/

On the eighth week of term, he starts making regular afterschool visits to the music room. He's not sure why. Maybe to clear his head. Maybe to be alone.

Either way, the appeal of the latter is shattered when Miku shows up.

"I didn't realise you came here still," she says to him, leaning on the edge of the doorway.

"Yeah," is all he can muster.

"You look really tired," she says, walking over to him. She places her hands on his shoulders, and he can see her reflection in the blackness of the piano in front of him. Her hands start massaging him, fingers occasionally brushing the back of his neck.

"And you're really tense," she murmurs, almost to herself.

He doesn't say anything; instead, he observes the black piano keys. He plays out notes in his head.

There's nothing wrong with Miku. She's pretty. Gorgeous, actually. She's funny. She likes her popularity, but who can blame her, really.

"Miku..."

"Hmm?" She slides her hands up his neck to his scalp, brushes locks of his fringe back to tilt his head up.

He can feel her breath on his forehead. She smells like mint. And girl. And normal. And foreign.

He's not sure where the last word comes from.

Miku leans in, and when he realises what she's doing, he closes his eyes. They kiss, an interesting kind of kiss, all soft and tender. Except, as it grows, it suddenly becomes too much, the tenderness too much – and he pulls away, stares at the piano.

"Len, what's _wrong_?" Miku asks, pushing his chair so that he's facing her. "You've been AWOL these past few weeks and I thought that I'd give you space, because I know Rin's going through a lot so you must be, too – but look, I'm here to _listen_."

He can feel her stare on him, confronting and penetrating but eager to comfort all at once. Here she is, ready to listen and console and whatever, but he doesn't want it to be her. He wants it to be someone else and that's just wrong. He doesn't want _normal _and _foreign_.

He can't do this.

Jesus, he can't do any of it.

"What? Len, why are you looking at me like that? You're scaring me –"

"We need to break up," he blurts out. "I can't... I just – I can't."

She stares at him, eyes wide – out of confusion or shock or both, he doesn't know. Her hands fall away from him and she looks down at the floor.

"...Why?"

"I've got a lot of stuff to figure out, and let's face it, this was never really working –"

"So what, it's not me, it's you?"

"It's me, being confused, and just – you and me, not really working."

Seeing her wince, he realises that it was probably an insensitive thing to say. But anything he could say to make her feel better would just come off as being completely insincere and forced.

"I really liked you," she says, voice muffled. "I really did. And you were fine – just a little passive – until... until..."

"Until what?"

"Well, until _Rin_," she says. But her eyes aren't accusing, or angry. They're just confused. He lets out a small exhale of relief. "I mean, you threw a paper _ball _at her."

"How does that –"

"Because you never try to catch the attention of anyone, do you? Everyone's always chasing after you. _I'm _always chasing after you. And I thought that was the way it was going to be, and I was fine with that because I thought you were like that – hard to get – with everyone. Except you're _not_. You're fine with Rin, and I'm... I'm not making you happy. Which doesn't exactly make me happy, either." She ducks her head, sighing loudly.

He wants to look away – because she's basically saying what she said before, the whole _Rin is the exception _thing, and that just makes him feel weird - but forces himself not to. That's the coward's way out and that's not what he's going to do. "I know," he says quietly. "It's not your fault. And you have no idea what it means, that someone like you can even see something in someone like me -"

"Why do you always do that? Put yourself down like that?" she says, frowning, looking up at him. "You're an amazing singer, but you never sing – well, for fun, anyway. You play the piano like no one else, ever, and – _don't_ shakeyour head, Len, you know it's true. I mean, can't you _see_?"

"See _what_?"

She shakes her head, looking away from him, and he realises that _thanks _is probably such a feeble thing to say, especially to Miku. But what else is there to say?

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are," she replies, quiet.

"I really am."

"I _know_." This time it's said with a sad-looking smile.

He shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them from awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "See you, Miku." And when she keeps silent, he walks away, slowly so that she doesn't think he's trying to run away or whatever. And then finally, he reaches the door, and realises that they're over for good.

/

News of their break up spreads like wildfire. At one point, Kaito comes up to him and places a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, pity all over his face.

"Miku can be pushy. And loud. And expectant. And aggressive," Kaito says seriously, and Len just stares, too afraid to nod and agree to anything just because it'd be just his luck if Miku suddenly popped around the corner and overheard everything. "But don't worry, we have a support group."

"A support group?"

"Oh yeah. 'Support group'," he says, finger quoting. "_Officially,_ that's what it is. But deep down in here?" He points to his heart, face still dead-serious. "It's a _brotherhood_. We share experiences no other man has experienced."

"...Right. Sure. But I broke up with _her_."

Kaito shakes his head. "No matter who broke up with who, scars remain, man. And those scars? They fall deep into your blood, real deep, until they reach your –"

"- bones?"

"_Soul_, Len, _soul_. But don't worry, Len, you can totally use this for your future albums. People love soul. _Girls _love soul. Girls that probably put out, too." And here, he winks, and grins in satisfaction like he's in some kind of infomercial. Especially because of the whole perfect-body-perfect-hair-perfect-teeth thing he has going on.

Len waits for Kaito to break and slap him on the back and belt out in his weirdass Kaito-laughter but he doesn't. He just keeps grinning. So instead it's just awkward and creepy for a while.

He clears his throat. "...Okay then. But when did _you _date Miku?"

"This is a brotherhood for all men with broken hearts, not just of the ones broken by Miku," he clarifies.

"Wow. Just... wow. Well... thanks man. I'll think about the... brotherhood."

"You really should." Then Kaito nods to himself before leaving, like he's confidently converted someone over to his cult, which, honestly, isn't description too far from what this sounds like.

/

"I can't believe you did it."

This is said to him when he's about to go shower – Rin's just come home from cheerleading or whatever preppy sport she has on Wednesdays. Her skin's glistening and her hair is tied back and she's looking at him like he's some kind of star. Or monster. He can't really tell if the disbelief is the good kind, yet.

Either way, his heart is thumping way too hard and it takes him a while to respond without spluttering out stupidly.

"What did I do?"

"Broke up with Miku. You broke up with her."

He nods, then tries to shrug nonchalantly, looking anywhere but her. "Well, yeah. It wasn't really going anywhere."

"I know, the whole school knew _that_," she says, before stepping back, surprise on her face._ That _catches his attention. He raises his eyebrows at her. "I mean – okay, wow, that sounded _so _bad."

"Uh, it's fine, Rin -"

"No, it's not, oh my God. Sorry, I keep doing this." She's clamping her lips together again, like it'll keep the words from coming out of her mouth.

"Do you want to shower first?" he offers, because she looks like she really needs it, sweatiness and all. Rin blinks, before looking down at her sports uniform and blushing an even deeper red.

"Um, yeah. I guess. I look gross." But still, she hovers. That's when he figures she's going to try and ask him something. "Are you going to date again?"

He blinks. "Well – yeah. I guess I – yeah," he finishes lamely. "It hadn't really occurred to me yet."

Her head jerks up to stare at him. "You aren't _gay_, are you?"

"What? Uh, no. Do I -"

"No, you don't. I just... I was just wondering. I mean, Miku's the prettiest girl in school."

He shrugs. "That's debatable."

"Not to a lot of people, it isn't." She says it in this pleasant, light tone – but it feels very fake. He wonders whether to call her out on it or not, and that's when she talks again. "So do you have like, a type?"

"Of what?"

"Of _girl_," she says, rolling her eyes. "Do you have a type that you, you know, go for?"

He thinks it over – and thinks of Rin. So, the _related _type, obviously. Not that he can say that out loud. Ever. "I don't know. Not really. I've only ever dated Miku."

"So, you go for the outgoing, uh, frisky, girly, hyperactive kind of girls?"

He stares. "Well, I broke _up _with Miku too, so... no."

She's frowning, now – and that's when he thinks that this whole conversation is just _bizarre_. And unsettling.

"I like blondes," he offers, and as soon as he says it, he wants to smack himself in the head. But she doesn't seem to take it in the wrong way, or anything – and that's when he thinks, well, why should she? He's her brother, for crying out loud.

But then, like a flutter spreading on her face, she smiles. She smiles and he's baffled because, really, what's there to smile about? "I like blondes too," she says, with that smile.

He frowns. "What?"

"I like blondes too," she repeats.

He stares at her, and she doesn't reply; instead she moves past him in one motion, into the bathroom. He hears the water of the shower head hit the floor, spilling and crashing on the tiles.

/


	3. they start to go over the cliff

**TITLE: **born out of thorns  
**SUMMARY: **It is the most terrifying and horrifying feeling when Len realises he's in love with his sister. Rin/Len. Incest.  
**Rating: **M for the Incest and other things :)  
**NOTES: **So... this fic is getting really complicated? Sadness.

/

It's the ninth week of term, and everyone's inviting everyone to parties and socials and formals and other things that cool people do. Len gets two invitations – one from Miku, and one from Meiko, and after glancing at the dates, he realises they're on the same day. He doesn't think it's that much of a big deal – them being in the same social circle and all – but Rin starts spending more and more time on the phone, giggling and laughing and whispering in hushed tones. And then afterwards, a smile lingers on her face, a curl of the lip.

"What's with you?" he asks, against his better judgement.

Her grin noticeably brightens. "Nothing. It's just that Miku and Meiko are trying so hard to top each other. Miku just hired an elephant for her party today, just because Meiko's got a chimpanzee act for hers." She laughs. "It's so stupid."

"Where the hell are they getting the money for that?" He opens the fridge to look for food. The only things in there are the fruit that Rin uses for her morning smoothies.

"_Well_, her dad is some big wig in Apple –"

"Big wig?"

"Yeah, you know. Like... head honcho. Businessman-type-person."

"I don't think anyone refers to anyone working in business as a _big wig_. Or a head honcho. Whatever that is."

"Well, _you_ obviously don't know enough cool people," she says, in that teasing voice. _I like blondes too_. He swallows. "So which party are you going to? Miku's or Meiko's?"

"Resident hermit, remember?" Len closes the fridge, deciding to make himself some coffee instead. "I don't do parties."

"Just _come_. You can stand in the corner and, I don't know, mock them. It'll be _fun_. And Dad says it's totally cool if we go, as long as we're home by one."

He stares. "In the _morning_?"

"Well, yeah."

"_Dad_'s letting us go to some random party until one in the morning?"

"Yeah, I asked and everything. He said it's fine. As long as we're not drunk. But he trusts me, so it's okay."

"Seriously?" He must be feeling particularly nice, Len thinks. Or maybe he's been hit by a bus. "Wow. Okay."

"I know you don't, you know, like people. But that's okay, you can learn to like people. Or you can just stick around me. Or Kaito. You know, Kaito's been asking after you a lot. He really misses you. Something about a 'brotherhood'. You guys can totally hit it off, be best friends forever, wear matching bracelets! Doesn't any of that sound appealing? Like, at all?"

"Look, Rin, you don't have to try so hard. I _like _having no friends."

"Oh. Right. Yeah." Her legs swing back and forth as she sits on her chair. "Then... come for me?" She tilts her head and looks at him, eyes all big and asking.

Yeah, sure. Go with Rin. And watch as the crowd practically eats her, as girls gush over boys and run to her for advice, as guys lift her up and carry her across the crowd, as she lives life as the socialite while he stands awkwardly in the corner, sipping at something that sort of looks like Fanta, but probably isn't.

His expression seems to say it all, because she takes on a whole new note of pleading. "Look, I... there's this guy."

A pang hits his chest. "Yeah? A guy?" he tries saying lightly, but it just results in sounding croaky and strained. He should really just pretend not to care and walk away. He should really just – "Who's the guy?"

"He's from the grade below us. His name's Aaron. He's been trying to get me on this new club, the Green Team 2.0 –"

"Wait, what?"

"Green Team 2.0," she repeats, though that's not really what he's interested in. "Basically they think that the _current _Green Team – so the one I'm in – is super corrupt and that we should be reconstructed and that some people should be kicked out and... agh, God, it's just all this messy, stupid stuff that I hate dealing with. But he's been following me all around school about it and I don't know. You scare a lot of people. What? Why are you looking at me that?"

"I'm not – nothing, I just thought you were going to ask me for advice, or something. On guys," he clarifies, when she sends him a questioning look.

"Oh. No, no way. That'd be – no." She laughs. "I'm _never _dating a guy in high school. No way."

But you used to like Kaito, he almost says, and then he releases his hand from the kitchen counter and watches his skin blanche white. He had no idea he was holding the counter so tightly. In fact, it's kind of worrying.

"Len? Len, what's wrong? Is there something on your hand?"

"No," he says, and he knows she knows he's lying – not about this, but in general. Eventually the tension is going to climb so high that she's going to sit him down and try and have a nice, calm talk with him. He'll stay quiet, or maybe he'll yell. Whatever he does, it'll be in a vain, defensive attempt to finally get her to stay away from him, and _ugh_, isn't this just one giant, shitty cliché? Guy meets girl. Girl is a freaking angel. Guy, not so much. Insert conflict.

"So will you come to the party with me? Please Len? Please please please –"

He sighs. "Look, Rin, I have a lot of work to do. I'm sorry I can't steer away your unwanted fans, but I'm honestly swamped."

She eyes him dubiously, and it makes him feel like bugs are crawling all up and down his skin, searching for the lie. "Alright," she says, resigned. "If you say so."

/

It gets quiet after that – well, not quiet, but quieter. Rin's really involved in these party things, chattering and jabbering about decorations and venues and who's coming and who isn't and how this person invited this person but not that person which is really awkward because this person and that person are best friends so if this person invites that person and not this person it's just going to be a mess because –

Well, whatever.

He hasn't really spoken to Miku much, but she's happy enough with him to send him an invitation, which he supposes is good. In fact, with Rin busy, and Len just having no friends, period, the only person that's been trying to talk to him is, well, Kaito. Which is weird.

It starts off with texts – _hey buddy, wanna catch the game? Brah, let's go for cheesesticks. Bro, y u no answer? Answer me brah, ansaaaaaaah! _

He's not sure of what Kaito's doing, exactly. Which strikes him as a little weird in itself, because it's probably not good to be suspicious of people who, really, only want to make friends. But he feels uncomfortable with Kaito, anyway – all the impressions he's had from Kaito are from watching him and Rin on stage, dancing and singing to each other like lost lovers, feeling the knowledge of Rin's clear infatuation with Kaito heavy in his brain; he remembers feeling so uncomfortable, so _weird_.

He can understand why she liked him so much – even though Kaito isn't the best singer or dancer or actor, he can sell himself. He's got this whole perfect-male-specimen thing going on with the absentminded questions and the offhanded compliments and the sincere gentlemanliness that he seems to exude. So people tend to just ignore his weirdness – or at least, they think it adds to his charm.

Eventually, he does answer the texts– _what's up, Kaito? – _and he's not even sure of why. Maybe it's because it's the fourth day of having to hear Rin giggle and gossip over the phone and he hasn't heard a word from her since he refused to go to the party with her, or maybe it's because as soon as his Dad found out that he'd refused, he had given Len this _look_, this stupid, judgemental look. Which he has no right to do, by the fucking way. No fucking _right_. Neither of them do. It's not his scene, end of story.

It's hard to hate Rin in this, just because she's too sweet and nice and angelic and she doesn't mean to make their Dad the self-righteous bastard that he is just because he's got a 'healthy relationship' with his daughter.

And Len just has to grit his teeth and bear it, bear being the 'failure'. So he doesn't know how to reach out and connect. So the only person he's ever connected with is his sister. So what? So fucking what –

_Braaah, you replied! Thank Jesus, I was starting to think I had to start throwing rocks at your window or something._

The anger evaporates into confusion. He blinks and he replies, _What's going on?_

_CHEEEEEEEEEZYSTIX. Cheesesticks, is what's going on. Let's EAT THEM._

_..Now?_

_Yeah, brah, NOW. AT THE PARABLE. Or, like, at 7 tonight. BE THERE, OR BE SQUARE. _

He decides that Kaito is more than a little bit strange.

"Who're you texting?" comes Rin's voice, and he starts a little.

"Uh, a friend," he says, almost uncertainly. He shoves his phone in his pocket and checks the time – five minutes to six. The Parable is half an hour away.

He looks over at her, wondering what she'll think about Kaito. She'll probably get all excited, jump up and down, pack a gold star on his forehead. And he's quite sure he'll have one of two reactions – either he'll grin with her and feel his heart swing or he'll be too irritated by the whole pet-project thing to acknowledge her for what she is – an arm stretched out to help. Which is great and yet absolutely frustrating all at the same time.

"What friend? From our school? A guy? A girl?" She's got a phone in her hand, arm limp against her side. Her head is tilted in curiousity. "Do I know him? Or her?"

"Yeah," he says, making a grab for his wallet and deciding getting there a little early probably wouldn't hurt. "Anyway, I gotta go. We're meeting up, so..."

"Oh." She scrunches up the edge of her pajama shorts in her hands. "Okay. When are you gonna be back?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

"Okay. Well, have fun."

Len just nods – a barely noticeable incline of the head – opens the door, and shuts it behind him.

/

The first thing that Kaito says to him is, "Dude, the brotherhood is failing."

Len stares at Kaito across the table. "Okay."

"This always happens," Kaito says, looking outraged, fist clenched and forehead-vein pumping. "They come in, they say they're done, they say that they're ready to find new fish, new _birds_, and I help them! I help them _all_. And what do they give me?"

When Kaito doesn't continue, Len figures that maybe his question isn't entirely rhetorical. "...Friendship?"

"A _failure _of a friendship, Len. You're the only one left, dude." He takes a vicious bite of his cheesestick.

"Alright then." He sips his drink – a coke – quite awkwardly.

Then Kaito looks up at Len, eyes blazing, fist held out. "But that's okay, we'll recover. We'll _rebuild_. Bros for freaking _life_, man."

It takes Len a few seconds to realise he's supposed to fist-bump Kaito, but not having really done it before it comes out very awkward and slow. Not that Kaito seems to mind.

"First things first, initiation," says Kaito, grinning. "Which means after we're full of cheesesticks, it's down to the arcade."

"Uh, okay. Which one?"

"The one next to the Karaoke Bar. You any good at DDR? Because dude, I'm going to kick your blond ass."

/

What he learns about Kaito is that he's kind of a parody of like, the Vocaloids in general – which makes no sense, considering he's the main _lead _Vocaloid, and therefore arguably one of the unique components that make the Vocaloids so popular and special and shiny.

What he also learns about Kaito is that he's a lot louder and crass and just generally more of an asshole outside of school – which is fine by Len, really, because nice people (refer to Rin) make Len feel sort of uncomfortable.

They spend their time playing really lame, cheesy games, and weirdly enough, Len gets kind of into it. Especially with Kaito's kind of weird but sort of enjoyable petty competitiveness ("Dude, you call that a shot? You call _that _a shot? I'll shoot your face, assface, that wasn't a shot!") and his strange but sort of amusing trash talk ("Your lameness at life is so big that it could eat the internet! That's right, the whole internet! You know that big that is? It's pretty shitting _big_!")

Either way, it releases a lot of the tension (temporarily, anyway) and when it's eleven p.m and it's cold as hell and it's dark and the city is lit up with neon lights, Len feels kind of lucky.

"Dude, when you get that stick out of your ass, you're actually fun." Kaito grins at him, one hand placed on Len's shoulder. "Thank God Miku dated someone cool. We can be _biffles_, man. _Biffles_. No homo, though, that's happened before and it's awkward."

He snorts. "Okay, Kaito."

His phone buzzes in his pocket again – it's been buzzing all night. He doesn't want to look at it.

But Kaito takes it as a cue to check his own phone, wincing. "Ah, man, what time is it? I'd totally get baked with you or something but my mum's gonna freak if I'm not home by like, twelve. School night and all."

"Baked?" Like, in the sun?

"Yeah. Baked." Kaito shrugs. "As in weed."

Len raises his eyebrows, but doesn't say anything. "Yeah, sure. That's fine."

"Cool then. Well, I gotta catch the train, so. See you later!"

They wave goodbye and go their separate ways. Walking gets heavier on the way back – he doesn't want to see his Dad, or Rin. A new feeling hits him – he wants to stay out in the city forever and just _enjoy_, bask in the iciness of the wind and how it bites at his fingers, listen to the music of the blaring cars and the blasting techno of the dance clubs and of the sirens of ambulances and police cars that whizz back and forth along the roads. He suddenly understands the teenagers that stay out late and party hard and do whatever – cities like these, he realises, are built to swallow you whole.

/

Rin is there when he gets home. They share a look – she's still on the landline phone, so he doesn't bother doing anything else but nodding in her general direction.

When he passes her, she mumbles, "Len, phone, have you met?"

It's that tone again – that spiteful, annoyed tone that she normally represses. He's never had it directed at him before. It makes him feel slightly indignant, angry, so he makes a big show of slamming his keys down on the counter and throwing his bag on the floor and storming to his room like he hasn't heard a word.

He hears her whispering on the phone until four a.m, something he realises he could probably yell at her for, because he's annoyed enough. But then he thinks of her in her little pajama shorts and her loose singlet and he's reminded of why he is not a good brother.

/

So when term ends, he actually has plans for the holidays. And with Kaito, of all people.

Kaito Shion is probably the worst influence of a friend in the whole entire world. He's charming and he's happy-go-lucky and he's filled with the kind of smiles that earn him trust and endearment – and then he turns around and chills in a park and gets stoned underneath the sun. Len wants to call him two-faced but he can't just because even when Kaito is stoned or drunk or high, he's _still _charming and happy-go-lucky and generally all-around charismatic and persuasive. The only difference is that when he's stoned or drunk or whatever (take your pick) he can lose so many inhibitions that he'll go on borderline aggressive – a scary thing, considering the size of Kaito. It makes Len think that Kaito's probably not very happy with himself. It makes Len sort of thankful that Kaito's _human_.

Kaito doesn't make a big deal out of the fact that Len hasn't really approached drugs and drinking before, something he's also thankful for. He's patient and he snorts into the grass when Len first tries the weed out, coughing and gagging as his throat burns dry. He slaps Len on the back and eases him into it until finally it pulls Len's body into a lull, and stops his thoughts from processing. It makes him say stupid things but they're _funny_, and it's such a relief from all the whirrings and hummings of his thoughts.

He's not exactly a 'bro' or anything – as much as he claims otherwise (and that's when Len figures out that when Kaito is yelling about bro's and ho's and pacts and brotherhoods, he's probably high) - but Len thinks they're looking for the same thing. He doesn't know where he gets all his stuff from – the weed, the cigarettes, the bottles of vodka – but he thinks that Kaito wouldn't tell him if he asked, so he never says anything.

They spend their holidays quietly in abandoned parks and alleyways, smoke between them. They play old school arcade games, screaming and screaming at each other to win this and win that and do this and do that. Kaito will pat him on the back and give him a backhanded compliment and Len goes home realising that he's spent a whole four hours not thinking about Rin, and feeling very mixed about that.

Rin's given up questioning him about what he's doing – she's taken to just _looking _at him instead, which is pretty effective considering whenever she so much as glances at him he feels it like it's burning, and the flames spread all over his body and have him wanting to tear his own skin off just to avoid the bloodcurdling, the skin-prickling, and the stomach-fluttering.

And then it's the night of Miku's party, and it's twelve am, and they're at the park and Kaito's drunk as hell. Len's not really drunk at all, and is just sort of staring off into the sky while Kaito's doing his thing, wondering about that Green Team 2.0 guy that Rin was talking about.

"Don't you have like, friends?" Len inquires, as Kaito takes a swig of his vodka bottle. "Like, a lot of them?"

He laughs, loud in the quietness of the park. "Yeah, more like _minions_. We're not as cool as we make ourselves out to be," Kaito replies, something surprisingly more succinct – and honest - than Len was expecting. "Miku knows it too. Except, you know, she _likes _it."

That's not surprising. "You don't like it?"

Kaito pauses, then makes a show of straightening up and staring seriously at Len. "Like, it's like this," he says, slurring a bit, trying to make some sort of elaborate hand gesture but failing entirely. "So there's us – _Vocaloids_. We've got the auditions and the – the demos and the productions and the student body, right, but then we've also got, like, _no friends_. We're not friends. We just hang out because of some stupid thing in year seven."

The blond-haired boy turns around to look at Kaito, who looks thoroughly resigned. He raises an eyebrow. "Stupid thing?"

"Some _contract_," he says. "It's a stupid scholarship-sponsorship thing. If we can form a successful band with successful demos and success and success and success, we get automatic entry into the universities we want. Most of us want to go to the NVU – you know, the National Vocaloid University. We liked each other all the way back in Year 7 but we've all changed. But no one's saying it because we've gotten so far and the University's already looking at what we're doing at school, including this."

It takes a while for Len to process this. Cliques can be fake and they can be fragile, but this is just a whole new level of farce. "That," he manages, "is extreme."

Kaito nods. "Yeah. And it's overboard, it's stupid, I hate it. I hate Miku," he adds thickly, full of an unexpected resentment; something that's worth an eyebrow raise. "She's the one who won't let it die."

The silence fills the air as Len processes this. "And Rin?" he asks.

"Rinny's trying her best," Kaito tells him, and for some reason the nickname – _Rinny _– irks Len a bit. "She's – you know her. Perfect angel and stuff."

"So why're you telling me this? Why'd you call me out?"

"Because _you, _my friend, are not full of _shit._" He laughs and it sounds very bitter, very angry. "Miku knew that too. That's probably why she wanted you to be her boyfriend." Kaito stumbles a bit, backwards, but quickly catches his step. "I hate school."

"Amen to that." Len stares up off into the sky again. The stars aren't out, the sky's too polluted for that. He's just found out that the Vocaloids – so, the entire student presidential body – is some deliberate ploy to get into a good university.

Somewhere in this city, Rin is dancing with some guy and probably getting mildly buzzed.

"I used to really like her," he hears Kaito say, voice hoarse. Len has an inkling that he knows who he's talking about, and then he continues: "Sometimes I thought I loved her but then she became this stupid thing."

The words weigh heavily and tentatively in the air – Len's free to just ignore it as another drunken declaration, but his sympathy (what little of it) has him recognising that anguish, that frustration. He kneels down next to Kaito and sighs. It's awkward, sure. But he's kind of getting used to awkward situations.

"Miku?" he asks.

"Your ex-girlfriend," Kaito confirms, although honestly Len had been hoping to just ignore that. "Who still _loves _you. Lovey... dovey... _love_."

Len shifts uncomfortably. "We never did feelings. All we did was make out," he offers, but all that does is make Kaito groan like the knowledge physically hurts him. "Rin says Miku's always had a thing for you, anyway."

"Yeah, sure, when we were twelve." He sighs. "Is it weird if I tell you I almost dated your sister? Because I almost dated your sister. Almost dated _Rin Kagamine_. That's so weird."

His stomach lurches, and he thinks of when he saw them onstage, all those years ago. "Yeah, well, let's not talk about that."

The wind starts getting louder and louder, rustling the trees and the grass and all the littered soda cans, squashed on the pavement. Music starts blasting from the other side of the street – some other party, probably.

"I don't want to go home," Len finds himself saying. Kaito tilts his head about, indicating that he's listening – something kind of foreign to Len, really. "My dad's never paid any attention to me until Rin started staying with us. She treats him like he's Dad of the Year, and now he actually _thinks _it. And now he's wondering why I'm not as grateful."

Kaito snorts. "That's gay."

"It's really hard to hate Rin for it, though, because –" and he almost says it. But the words suddenly fall muddy in his mouth - thank God for that. "I don't know."

"It's hard to hate Rin for _anything_. She's too perfect. Too... still. Too – shit, Miku's calling me. Hang on a sec." He does a little dance in the search for his vibrating phone, which almost has him falling over. Eventually he gets the thing out and clicks on the flashing _accept _button. "Yeello?"

Len coughs as he hears the faintness of Miku's voice on the other line – she's either extremely excited, or annoyed.

"I _told _you, Miku, I'm not coming," Kaito whines. "M'not – I don't like it. Your parties _suck_. Why? Because they make me _sad on the inside_. So I'm hanging out with my bro, my brother, my biffle for life. Isn't that right, Len?"

"Uh, right."

"So suck it, _Miku_," he says, saying her name like it's an insult. "Just... fall on a ball."

With how jittery her voice sounds now, Len has no doubt that she's annoyed. They keep arguing like this, with Kaito becoming seemingly more sober as the conversation stretches on, and Len decides that it's probably his cue to leave. So he waves his arm in Kaito's face and makes a sign that he's going to leave, to which Kaito says, "So sorry, dude. Catch ya later."

It's one in the morning, now, he realises. Rin should be home.

/

It's the first time he's ever seen her with make-up on.

When he gets home, she's undoing her hair and taking off her earrings and unbuckling her shoes. She offers him a weak smile but he can see that clearly, from her body language, she's just plain tired.

He's about to go into his room when she says, "When boys date girls, do they think sex is going to be in the cards? Like, eventually?"

The question is so out of the blue and alarming that he doesn't even hesitate in turning around and staring at her as she drops her bracelets onto the coffee table, along with her other jewellery. She looks so unlike herself with the black eyeliner and the short dress and the straightened hair and the tired look in her eyes.

Suddenly, he wants to hold her and tell her something – anything – and the urge takes him so off-guard that he physically has to step back to keep himself from doing anything. _Jesus_, he thinks, wanting to leave but at the same time, not having the heart to.

And then she looks up at him, eyes shadowed and dark.

"Well?" she presses, and that's when he realises he hasn't answered her question.

He scratches the inside of his wrist, knowing that his vague answer isn't going to help any. "Depends on the guy."

"What about you?" And her tone is so intent and blunt that he's almost scared of looking at her, knowing that her eyes will be just as direct, that they'll match.

"Depends on the girl."

"Right. No, of course. I..." Now she's biting her lip, something that makes her seem so small and unsure. He can already feel himself settling, his resolve waning. "I just... I, um..."

"You're always going to deserve better, Rin," he finds himself saying, chest twinging when that light of hope flares up in her eyes. "You're always going to be too good for whoever wants you."

He's not quite sure where that's coming from, but he can't bring himself not to own up to it; the way she's looking at him is making him hurt.

"Why would you say something like that?" she asks quietly.

Len shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets and averting his gaze. "It's the truth."

He's not looking at her but he can tell her eyes have softened, can feel the way her body has relaxed against the counter to look at him. It's all just one notch from feeling scarily intimate, but he knows she has something to say, can hear the words lining up on her tongue, and stays put.

"It wasn't a big deal," she says with an exhale. "Just some stupid college boy who put his hand on my leg. I freaked out majorly and he said that dressing like I did tonight was just asking for it, so I shouldn't complain."

"Dick," he snorts, and she giggles.

"It feels really lame but I kept thinking, are all boys like this? Do they all look at girls like they're, you know, for sex? Is that what they want, eventually? I don't know. It was _weird_. But then I think of you and I remember why stereotypes are just stereotypes."

He scuffs his feet against the corner of a wall. "...Right."

Rin frowns, and the softness of her ebbs a little. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's just – I don't get why you say things like that," he says, banging his fist lightly against his thigh. "I mean, just – '_I think of you, and I remember why stereotypes are just stereotypes.' _That's such a cliché, movie-kind of... it's not _bad _or anything but I really don't get what you get out of being so, I don't know, nurturing."

"I'm not trying to _nurture _you."

"I know you're not, but you just _are_. And I've always been alone, okay? Mum didn't want anything to do with me, Dad spent most of his free time passed out on the couch, and I just don't _get _you."

She shakes her head. "No, Len, don't say that. Mum and Dad really –"

"But they _don't_," Len says, louder than he meant to, throatier than he'd expected. Suddenly the anger is coming out in gushes, coming out thinly and dryly like something akin to desperation – "He's _never _taken me out to go buy _stationary_, he's never come to an Orientation Day or whatever, he's never gone to any of the musicals I did as a kid, he's just – _never_. I don't get how you can just smile and say that it's all okay and let them think they did a good job because they _didn't_, okay? They _didn't_. He can't take the credit for whatever I've done or become because he wasn't _there_."

Seconds pass before he realises what he's said and he wracks his memory to figure out what he's said through the haze of the frustration he'd felt. Stationary, seriously? Orientation Days? It's not like he's ever _really _gotten upset over them – so why would he mention all that petty, trivial, _childish_ stuff now? But before he can blather out with some kind of explanation, Rin talks.

"I think that you keep a lot of things to yourself," she says slowly. "And I understand that. Because it works." She pauses, wringing her hands. "Until it doesn't."

In a weird way, he knows she's about to hug him, but when she does, he's still a little surprised. It feels like something has been drained out of his system and now his body is all limp and heavy, and yet somehow also very light.

He hesitantly wraps his arms around her, suddenly feeling too tired and too lagged to agonise over the contact (but the worry _is _simmering, bubbling gently underneath his skin). Miku had been slightly taller than him, which had made hugging and making out slightly different to what was the convention; Rin, though, is his height exactly. Her chin fits into the crook of his neck and her arms are around him in the exact way his are around her.

And she's not hugging him with _intentions_, like Miku did – it's pure, nurturing. Sisterly. And as soon as the words sound out in his mind he thinks of pulling away, even if it does feel strangely and weirdly right – but she speaks before he can do anything.

"Do you feel better?" she says, voice muffled in his shirt. It shakes him back to reality and he untangles himself, clearing his throat and suddenly feeling like his hands are very empty.

She's looking at him with so much sympathy and pity that his chest starts contracting into itself, like his insides are caving in. She's just consoled him the same way she does every crying junior student she happens to pass by. She's got the upper hand, the information, and what's worse is that she's not going to do anything with it because she's that good of a person. Because she's his sister and she's pro-family, even _their _family. Because she can do everything right.

"I feel fine," he says, already moving to go to his bedroom, knowing that he's not going to sleep for hours. His body still feels really logged, like that one outburst had zapped him of all of his energy.

But then she grabs on to his sleeve, smiling. "Not so fast. We're having a family dinner – you, me, Mum and Dad. Tomorrow night, actually –"

"_Tomorrow_?" he repeats, embarrassed at how throaty his voice sounds. "Jesus, Rin –"

"I know, I know, I should've told you sooner. But I wasn't sure if we were talking. You kind of seemed annoyed at me after that day where I got sick."

He can feel the blood prickling at his cheeks. "Right, yeah. I wasn't."

She looks dubious, but doesn't say anything about it. "So you will go, right? You're not going to, like, hang out with your secret girlfriend or anything?"

Despite himself, he rolls his eyes. "I'll go, I'll go."

"Great! I mean... awesome. Good. Hurray." She lets go of his sleeve, her smile upturning into a grin. "I'm glad we're talking again."

"Right," he says.

They hover a bit in comfortable awkwardness, and then they go off to sleep. Len stares up at his bedroom ceiling and doesn't understand why Rin always makes him feel like his chest is going to burst. He thinks about tomorrow's dinner, and winces. He wishes the ceiling would swallow him.

/


	4. i mean if they're running

**TITLE: **born out of thorns  
**SUMMARY:**It is the most terrifying and horrifying feeling when Len realises he's in love with his sister. Rin/Len. Incest.  
**Rating:**M for the Incest and other things :)  
**NOTES:**goodness, I couldn't have rewritten this chapter enough times. Enjoy?

This is actually quite a bit shorter than the other chapters just because it's so, so emotionally draining. But dw, that means that the next chapter is already half written!

'You can't just make me different and then leave.' - Looking for Alaska by John Green. Great book if you're into those brief, psychologically empowering teenage angst stories.

/

Len likes to think that he's an altogether good son. Not the best, but a far cry from the worst.

Sure, he doesn't exactly shower his father with hugs and kisses every time he walks in the door, but he gets good grades. Doesn't go out late without telling anyone. Doesn't ever argue or question or slam the door behind him with that usual, teenager reverence. He just sits in his room and spends his time pretending not to exist – and most of the time, his dad just goes along with it.

Which is why it's so strange watching his father getting ready for the dinner, ties and blazers and trousers and all, cologne wafting through the rooms, looking almost nervous. Unsteady.

Len wonders if he should be dressing up too, but decides that his normal, everyday shirt and jeans is probably presentable enough.

"Where's Rin?" Len asks, because he realises that it's really quiet.

"With your mother," he says briskly, combing his hair over. Len frowns.

"What are you doing?"

It comes out a lot more accusatory that he'd meant it to be, but he doesn't bother amending himself. His father turns around and looks at him, but doesn't reply, and walks into the other room looking for cufflinks.

/

The restaurant is a high-class, Western restaurant, with food portions smaller than half the plate and waiters with plastic smiles. Rin's wearing a relatively nice looking dress that clings to her body very supposedly innocently; he's trying not to notice.

This is so odd, he thinks, as he sits down at one of the cloth covered tables. His dad sits next to him, while their mother sits next to Rin. They haven't really spoken beyond the small talk they'd made while sorting out their reservations at the door, and now things are just very quiet.

"I think I might have the lamb," their mother says conversationally as they all rifle through their menus.

"I hear the lamb is quite good," Rin says, with that same air of politeness. "Have you heard, Dad? About the lamb."

"Oh, yes, of course."

Len tries hard not to smile or snicker at the way Rin's voice seemingly switched to 'adult-mode'. But the remnants of that restraint seem to show on his face as it has Rin tilting her head questioningly at him with her eyes asking, _what?_

"Nothing," he says, and that's when he realises that Rin never actually said anything. Both their parents look over at them but nothing else is said.

They all order eventually, with all three of them having the lamb and Len having the salmon instead. It's the most awkward experience, especially with Rin dialing up her smile by about five degrees in a vain attempt to make this seem like a joyful family outing.

"Len, Rin," their mother says, finally. "The reason why your father and I wanted to bring you here today is because we want to acknowledge that we both haven't been the best of parents. We've let our intermarital problems affect you two, and we're very sorry."

Their father nods along stiffly, with Rin nodding in understanding, while Len is just – staring.

"As you know, communication is a two-way thing," their mother continues, and that's when Len understands where all the nervousness is coming from. They're trying to reconcile; bridge the gap that's formed over the past sixteen years.

He doesn't know how to feel about that.

"And we – your father and I – have realised that we've both come through lax in terms of communicating with the both of you. We're hoping that you can forgive us for that." She glances at their father, as if unsure, and their father grunts, as if to beckon her to continue.

"We can," Rin says confidently, and Len snaps up to look at her, surprised.

Their mother smiles at Rin and takes her hand. Len is frozen.

"We're hoping to spend more time together," she continues. "Maybe some lunches… dinners… maybe we can attend more school functions…"

"What about Liam?" Len says, and the question sounds like something cracking.

Their mother pauses, looking at Len with the strangest look. As if she's surprised he's even spoken. Or maybe he's reading into things. He always does.

"Liam and I have separated to take some time off," she says slowly.

"Len, don't pry into your mother's business," says their father. What? Don't _pry_? Isn't this is the whole point of this dinner – to communicate, to understand each other?

"I think I have a right to know," Len says tightly.

"Len…" Rin pleads.

"No. No way. We're not doing this. You can't come in here and bullshit us and say sorry for making that _one mistake _that kind of screwed up our whole childhood and just expect us to be okay with that. You can't expect us to."

"Us?" their mother says.

Len opens his mouth to say _yeah, us _but seeing Rin, who is looking at him with that same, strange expression – he realises that he can't. She's not with him on this. Why would she be?

But with the way they're all looking at him, you'd think that he was throwing a _tantrum _– which he isn't. He hasn't raised his voice, hasn't insulted them. He's only said things how they are. He's only told the truth.

Except it doesn't feel like it. It doesn't look like it.

This is stupid. As if it's okay to just pretend like the last sixteen years never happened and that everything is fine. Everything is _not _fine.

But how can he say that? He feels so many words cramming and building up in this throat that he doesn't know which ones to say, to choose. Usually in times like these, he stays silent, but the fury is boiling up and simmering so hard underneath his skin that he's not sure he can.

"I thought you two hated each other," he finds himself saying, and with the winces and flinches from both his parents, he knows he's hit a sore button. "I mean, you said –"

"It doesn't matter what I said," his father interjects quickly. "What matters is that we have a clean slate, and that we move on."

"A clean slate?" Len echoes in disbelief. "So we're just going to ignore everything in favour of _pretending _of having a happy family?"

"No, Len," Rin mumbles next to him. Len glances at her, at the way her cheeks are blossoming red. In anger, he's pretty sure.

"It's not like that, Len," their mother says, moving her hand forward to touch his. He immediately draws it back.

"Len, _please_," Rin says again, in that adult-voice, like he's a misbehaving child.

"Len, I know we haven't had the closest relationship," his father says, leaning forward. "But you can't just cling onto the past like this. Now we're all trying. Whether or not your mother and I resolve our differences, we want to become the kind of family that we've always dreamed. Isn't that right, Elaine?"

"Len, they're being sincere," Rin says.

At that, he feels a sharp anchor draw in on his chest and pull his words down, and his mouth into a narrow, thin line. Lock them up, hold them down.

He needs air.

"Excuse me," he says, pushing out of his chair and walking out, feeling stupid because he almost trips over his own napkin. He knows Rin is following him. He knows it, he knows, he knows.

/

"Jesus Christ, Rin," Len mutters, walking out into the open cold. Her eyes are blazing, curiously raw, like she's halfway between exploding in anger and bursting into tears.

"What, Len? _What_?" Her voice tremors, and a painful pang hits his chest. He doesn't want her to cry. "Am I _bothering _you? Is it really so hard for me to want a family out of you and me?"

"I can't _give _you that, Rin," he says, gritting his teeth, wanting to throw up his arms in frustration. He'd like to give her that – be a good brother – but he can't because of this _stupid _thing.

"Why not? Because you don't _like _people?" She sounds vaguely mocking but he tries not to let it get to him. "Because of how Dad treated you? Len, you heard him, he wants to try hard, too. He wants to make amends. It might be a little different but we can still be a _family _–"

"Why are you _trying _so hard?" Len says, a little in disbelief, finally whipping around to face her. She's not crying but her cheeks are blossoming red again. He feels himself falter a little, but presses on. "We're never going to be that white picket fence kind of family. Everything's been fine as it is. Why are you trying so hard to change everything?"

"Because we could be _happier_," she urges, taking his arm in her hands. He tries to pull away but she doesn't let him, eyes full of conviction and determination. "I just – I don't want to grow up and meet a guy and start a family all the while knowing that mine was a failure, you know? I don't want to be the one that runs away, okay?"

When the silence stretches out, heavy and painful, she whispers, "Is that not okay?"

"Damn it," he mutters under his breath. She's small and she's trembling and she's out in the cold, for _him_. Rin, everyone's best friend. The girl who always wants to do it right. He doesn't deserve her. "Look, Rin, it has nothing to do with you. I just can't –"

"_Why_?" she exclaims, startling him. Now he can see the tears swimming in her eyes, clear as day. He looks away and tries to pull his arm away from her again but she doesn't let go. Her gaze is insistent, unrelenting, wide and firm on him. "Why can't you? What's holding you back?"

"Damn it, Rin –"

"Is it me? Am I embarrassing to have as like, a sister, or something? Am I too weird for you? Is it too much attention for you? Is it Dad? Is it Mum? Do you hate them? Do you hate _me_?" Her grip becomes firmer on his arm, pulling him towards her, and he bites his lip, trying hard not to move his gaze from the pavement beneath them.

"No," he says hoarsely, shaking his head furiously, "no, no, no –"

"I don't _understand_." Her voice is pleading and it kills him to hear it. He wants to cover his ears with his hands and just make it all go away. "You're happy, right? You don't want to do anything bad like – like kill yourself, or anything –"

"_No_, Rin –" He keeps shaking his head, the frustration climbing up, higher and higher, tightening his chest until he feels like he can't breathe, and he just wants to get away from this, from her, from her looking so beautiful and from her begging for him to be brotherly when he knows, deep down, that his intentions are so far from brotherly that he could actually be arrested –

Len doesn't even realise he's shaking, trembling, until she's moved away from him, confused. He can feel the jittery shudders go through his body, his body threatening to collapse, and just as about he's about to make up an excuse and leave as quickly as he can, Rin touches his fingers, warming them in her hands. Her movements are now soothing, comforting, and even though he's trying really hard not to look at her at _all_, he can see what her eyes are like. Soft and gentle and sweet and understanding.

Somehow that just makes it even worse, and before he knows it, he feels the hot sting of tears coming and all of a sudden, he's crying. He tries to hide it at first, pretend like it's just something in his eye, but his hands are shaking and he feels like his entire body is shutting down. He folds over, crouching over the pavement, his face buried in his knees with his arm covering his face. He can't deal with this, any of this. And he wants to desperately tell her to leave him alone but at the same time he can't deny her at all; she kneels next to him and wraps one arm around his neck, pulling him side-on against her. Her other arm coils around his shoulders and he can feel her hot breath tickling his neck, the skin on his shoulders, "It's alright, Len. Everything's fine."

He almost lets out a cry. It's not fine. None of this is bloody _fine. _This isn't fair. It's not fair that she's so angelic and good and persistent. It's not fair that the only person he's ever connected with shared the same _womb _as him, has the same parents, the same flesh and blood. It's not fair that even when he's pathetic like this, crouching over and crying like a baby, that she can still be so willing to comfort and _heal_.

"It's not alright," he tries to say, but out of the thickness of his throat and the jumpiness of his voice he's not quite sure she heard him.

She pulls away a little to look at him, the hand on his shoulder moving to his back, the hand around his neck moving to his arm, gently pushing it away from his face.

"Hey, look at me," she says softly, moving his head to face her. Her softness is just overwhelming, but his body is too drogged down to try and jerk away. "What's wrong?"

"Jesus Christ, I don't know. I love you," he whispers out, his voice garbled.

There's a beat of silence before she says anything. "I love you too, Len," she says, but there's that question in her tone: _I don't understand?_

He shakes his head. He shakes his head and thinks, oh God, oh no. "It's not like that," he says, his breath hitching. "It's – like – I'm in love with you."

The confession comes out as an exhale.

This time he looks at her, even though he's shit-scared to. Her eyes are wide and uncomprehending, but her hand hasn't moved away from his face. And as much as he's frightened, there is also that huge relief; the burden of the secret lighter on his chest.

But then the realisation of what he means dawns on her, and the information sinks like heavy stones between them, ready to drag them under.

"You're... in love with me," she repeats.

Len doesn't know what to say. He can't say anything. He can only close his eyes, waiting her reaction out – waiting for the disgust, the judgement, the opposite of everything she's ever offered to him as a sister. He's waiting for the hammer.

"You're in love with me," she says again, quiet, staring down at the pavement. "I don't – I don't understand. What do you mean?"

It hurts to look at her again but he does; he wants to run away but he knows he won't. "I want to – I want –" his throat constricts painfully and he shakes his head again. "Christ, please don't make me say it. You know what I mean. It's not normal, I'm just – you're just – it's not right, Rin, I know it's not –"

"I can't believe it," she says, as if he hasn't said anything. "You..."

"I'm sorry," he says, feeling pathetic. More than pathetic. Hopeless. Weak.

"I just... I can't believe -"

"I'm _sorry_," he presses, and she clamps her lips together.

The sound of a police car siren echoes behind them.

He can't bear to look at her anymore, knowing that behind this consoling exterior, she's confused; she's confused and probably somewhat revolted. But she's pushing past that for the sake of moral obligation and that hurts. _She _hurts. As she strokes his back and leans her head against his shoulder, he can feel a dull, painful ache in his chest. He's tired. Drained.

"We can't help what we feel," she says quietly, shakily, fingers lightly stroking the back of his neck, into his hair. He tries to tone down the little hiccups that bubble up in his chest, but he's quite sure all his dignity has just been shot and thrown down into the drain anyway, so why bother? "Sometimes things like this happen and you – you just can't help it."

He wants to protest. But he won't. This feels too – too good, this does, the way she's touching the back of his neck, his hair, the edge of his ears; this feels too warm to step away from, and his head's a blur.

She's so kind, he thinks, closing his eyes. She's so kind, way too kind, he can't believe she -

Then he feels something soft against the corner of his lips and he's so shocked that he jumps, away from her, stumbling over his feet to stand up.

She's looking at him, unreadable. He's staring back, dumbfounded.

"What are you doing?"

She hesitates a little. "You said you were in love with me," she says quietly.

The words hang in the air, and the implications swim in his head as he tries to make out what this all means, what he should do. His head hurts so badly.

"You don't have to do that," he says. "Jesus, you don't have to – force yourself to –"

She frowns. "What kind of a sister can _force _herself to do something like this?"

"_You _can," he cries, feeling strangely indignant.

"Well..." She stands up, brushing lint away from her skirt. "I... I'm not."

When it's clear that he's too shocked to do anything but stare, she moves forward, tentatively placing her hands on either side of his face. He can count every freckle on her face and it scares him, scares him how calm she seems, scares him how hyperactive his body is now. Every part of him wants to lean in but he can't, he can't. It can't be this easy. It can't –

Her lips are against his, warm and hesitant, yet somehow sure at the same time. It sends a surge of desire so hard and overwhelming that he's too terrified to respond. She's his sister. He's kissing his sister. Her body is pressed against his and her hands are on his face. He's told her that he loves her and now she's _kissing him_.

"Well?" she whispers.

Well, nothing. Well, _everything. _"Jesus," is the only thing he can muster.

She smiles a little, a shaky curl of the lip that shows how scared she is, but it still manages to stir hotly at the bottom of his stomach. "Is that a good thing?"

None of this is a good thing, he thinks, but it doesn't stop him from smashing his lips against hers, hands fisting tightly in the forearms of her sleeves, half wanting to push her away and half wanting to pull her closer. This is so much more intense than anything he'd imagined in his dreams because this is _real_, and this is her body, and this is her face, and these are _her _words, and these are _her _lips, and – oh God, it's like his body has been wired up to a million bolts of electricity and he's completely at the mercy of this sudden, tumultuous _want _that strikes the inside of his body like lightning.

Dimly, he's aware of her trying to pull away, his name uttered in protest against his lips, and he realises he should let go, but his fists just coil up tighter into the forearms of her sleeves, pulling her forward whenever she pulls back, because he doesn't want to stop this, he wants to keep going, he wants to –

"_Len_," Rin calls out, and their lips part with a _smack_. Dazed, his fingers loosen their hold just the slightest bit. His body is practically singing, his blood boiling, fizzling. He stares down at her lips, then closes his eyes. His heart starts to slow down to its natural pace. Thoughts start registering.

"Our parents are right inside," she says. "So we can't... do that here."

The words don't make sense to him. Do _what_? What _is _this? He doesn't even realise he's frowning until she presses a thumb to the crease between his eyebrows, to assuage it.

"I'll come to your room later," she says, her hands holding his forearms, just as he is with her. Her eyes are glimmering just the slightest, subtle and quiet.

Then she lets go, her warmth gone. She walks back into the restaurant. He follows.

/

The rest of the dinner is painful. Both their parents look at him meaningfully, but he can't bring himself to process it. Any of it. He falls into a pool of thought, and every time one of his parents throw a question at it, it takes a good amount of willpower to come back to reality and blurt out whatever first comes to mind.

"I have to say, Len," his mother says, a little bemusedly. "You look quite shellshocked."

He stares at her. Shellshocked is a great word for it, actually. He nods.

"I think Len just has a lot to think about," Rin says, in that annoying-adult-voice, though he's too dizzy to really be irritated by her. Instead, he stares down at his napkin, because he knows if he looks at her, he won't stop. His head is reeling. His heart keeps threatening to start hammering again whenever he thinks of kissing her. _Kissing her_. The thought doesn't even make any sense. _But it happened_.

And when he does glance at her – and there it is, that subtle and quiet meaningful gleam – there's proof. That's the proof. She's – she's –

Oh, Jesus.

"I think we should get the cheque now," their mother says.

/

By the time they get to the car, he's calmed down a little. He still can't wrap his head around what had happened outside of the restaurant but at least he can think about it without hyperventilating. Exhaling, he looks out the window, the quiet whirring of the car being the only sound heard. Still, he can feel Rin as keenly as anything else, and when she looks at him, he can feel her gaze like it's fire on his skin. Against his better judgement, he looks over at her too.

Her eyes are asking, all gentle-like. _Are you okay? _One arm, slightly outstretched towards him. His chest constricts.

Len nods slightly, a bare tilt of the head, and the way her body relaxes indicates her understanding. She gives him a small smile.

His stomach flutters at that smile – that beautiful smile – and her pinky inches towards his. They brush against each other.

They're all about those, he realises – barely noticeable movements, understood between them both. For a split second, he can't hate the fact that they're siblings, that they're related, because he thinks that something like _this _– this bond, this twinlike connection – it can't happen with anyone else. They'd have to be like them, like Rin and Len, brother and sister and – _this_.

A strange contentment spreads through him as he looks at Rin – and he thinks she feels it, too.

This.

/

They go to their separate beds and they don't talk about it. His nerves are jittering underneath his skin and he tosses and turns and curls in his bed, heart quickening whenever he thinks of that kiss, all his limbs – his arms, his legs, his chest, his abdomen – seeking a release from all this confusion and discovery whirling in his head. He fists the sheets into his hands and breathes out into his pillows, wanting to let out a noise of some sort. Just to get rid of all the tension.

The stars on the ceiling mock him, sort of. Which sounds dumb. But whenever he looks up at them and remembers them – a birthday present from his mother when he was three, the last present he ever got from her – he feels this flush of something wash over him. Not quite shame. Not quite horror. Not quite elation. Not quite anything, really, but it everything's just kind of colliding and he's not sure what feeling to really go with.

He wonders if Rin feels the same way. If she's scared, just like him. If that gentle strength she'd shone through to him before is still shining now, or if she's breaking down and breathing hard and shaking just like he is.

He half-wants to just yell at her, or something, tell her that she can't just kiss him like that, she can't just whisper all those breathy words to him and make him want her so damn much and just look at him like that because now it's harder. He thinks he wants to touch her. He thinks he wants to touch her all the time.

/

Then it's morning, and he realises that he's still not sure if what happened actually really happened. Or how to act.

He doesn't know how Rin does it so effortlessly.

"So, Daddy -" and here he flinches a little. _Daddy_? It's far too endearing for the dysfunction that is their family. "- What's new in the world?"

"Our economy is being slowly destroyed," their father replies, in this wholesome good-natured fatherly way that Len can't really believe, either. "And a, uh – Kim Kardashian is also getting married."

"The newspaper really does run the important stuff," Rin chirps, and they laugh.

No comment.

"What about you, Len?" his dad calls out, startling him a bit. "What's new in your world?"

"Uh," Len says intelligently. "Not much."

"Len did really well on that last music assignment. The practical one, where you sang in front of the class," Rin pipes, unnaturally bubbly, prompting Len to turn around and stare.

He can sense a bit of nervousness behind her friendly exterior, a gossamer-thin waver. "Not really," he says slowly. He'd gotten full marks for that, but it's just because his teacher is ridiculously fond of him, though he's not sure why.

"Oh, come on!" she laughs, and it hurts his hear to hear how unreal it is. "You know you're a great singer. You're so good!"

"It's just favouritism, Rin."

"How can you say that? You're amazing!"

"Rin -"

"Dad, Len's really good at singing, isn't he? Don't you think?"

"What are you trying to prove?" he asks, and she starts, a little jerk of the movement, and like an opening, like an alarm, that small jerk of movement seems to bring down everything between them; it shows that there's something they're hiding, he's hiding, she's hiding, that there's something off and different.

Then his father says, "Len, your sister is only trying to be nice."

And that immediately breaks their gaze.

He doesn't reply to that. It makes him too uncomfortable to reply. Your sister. Your _sister_. Who still has swollen lips from kissing him the night before.

"I'm going out for a walk," Len mutters under his breath, grabbing his wallet from the counter and leaving.

/

"So... a family dinner?"

"Yeah. A shitty, fucking, stupid..." he trails off, glaring down at the table between them. "And Rin was acting all, you know -"

"Yeah," Kaito says, laughing a little. "I know."

"You can't just pretend as if nothing's wrong, that's not how things work," Len says. "I don't get how she can do that. I mean, I understand her reasoning, but it's just fucking ridiculous. I don't get how she can just _forgive _them like that. I don't get why she's doing any of this when it's just wrong."

"This?"

He thinks of the soft, hot pressure of her lips and immediately pulls back into his chair, already feeling tingles about to spread in him. "I'm just being dramatic," Len says quietly, taking a sip of his root beer.

Kaito shrugs. "If it bothers you this much, you should just let them know about it. They seem pretty open to doing whatever it is they want to do."

"You're right," he says. "They are. They do." He twists the root beer in his hands, back and forth.

That's when Kaito smacks his hand with a loud _slap_, effectively spilling his root beer over.

"What the hell?" Len says, quickly tipping it back straight and pulling out some napkins to remedy the mess.

"You were being pensive. No one likes pensive people," Kaito says plainly. "Don't mull on the stupid shit our parents do. My parents do stupid shit all the time! Big deal. Don't worry, you'll get out of this stupid city. Rin too."

Len blinks. He's never really seen it that way, has never really sought to escape from anything. He bunches up the soggy napkins and balls it up into a corner. "Rin wants to leave?"

"Fuck yes. We all do. That's why we're doing this stupid Vocaloid thing in the first place."

"Where does she want to go?"

"Uh. The Vocaloid campus out in England, I think. Miku wants to go to the one in Tokyo."

England? _England? _Why does she want to go to England? "England..."

"Yeah, England. Don't worry, I'm sure you can visit her. You can swim there or something."

He snorts. "...What about you?"

"Fuck, I don't care. Anywhere but here is good enough for me." Kaito grins. "I'm going to buy a pig."

"A pig?"

"Yeah, and I'll name her Wilbur."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"I'm going to dress her up and put her in competitions. Then I'm going to make her a Facebook account and marry it."

"I'm sure Miku will be very happy with you," says Len.

"Miku's a bitch, no one likes her," is Kaito's automatic, jovial response, to which Len only raises his eyebrows at. "Count yourself lucky that you're related to sane Vocaloid. Maybe you can go to England with her or something. Pick up a stupid accent and pretend you're better than everyone else is."

"Is that what you'd do?"

"If I had a say in anything, I'd sit down and do nothing, forever," Kaito replies. "I'd eat cheese and live in fucking sin."

"You know, I used to think you were a happy guy," Len says, and that makes Kaito fall back in his seat and smile something big and bitter.

"This is why you're my biffle," Kaito says. "Bros forever! Ho's are for losers. And gardens."

"Are you high?"

"Nah, but I'm gonna be." He shifts out of his seat, standing up. "Look, I don't know what it's like to have a sister. But, like, Rin likes you, you like her. You'll figure it out. Whatever she did or said that made you so unhappylike – just talk to her about it. Chat. Mingle. _Confront_. Don't just keep it in like a stupid bitch. She takes her role as your sister pretty seriously, you know. More than most people, anyway."

"Thanks for the pep talk," Len says, almost unsure if he means it sarcastically. Either way, Kaito shrugs.

"You were the one who called me out here. Now, do you want to get drunk in the park and tell me what's really wrong, or lose all our money at the arcade?"

"You wouldn't even want to know what was really wrong," Len says.

"Well don't be vague or anything," Kaito says, rolling his eyes. "Okay, so arcade? Or booze?"

"I think I'm going to go home." Len stands up with him, shoving his wallet into his pocket. "Sorry."

"Bro, you fucking suck. But that's okay, because I'm just going to get laid instead."

"Don't the girls you hit on ever wonder why you don't have ID?"

"Sometimes, but not really." And then he smiles another one of those movie-star, infomercial smiles. Bright smiles like that, Len knows, are designed and practised to make you feel too intimidated to question anything further.

Then he remembers Miku.

"I'm going to call you later," Len says, but Kaito just goes, _'whatever' _and walks off with a wave.

/

When he reaches home, Rin isn't there. Well at least she's not in the kitchen or the living room – he doesn't bother looking for her anywhere else, although he's itching to.

Maybe she's realised what a big, horrible mistake this all is. Maybe the consequences have finally weighed down on her and she's going to move back in with her mum.

Deciding to take a shower, he walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He looks at his reflection in the mirror. He's always thought that his appearance has always been fairly contradictory to his personality – or lack of it, anyway. Blonde, blue eyed, short, and baby faced to top that all off.

But all of that – the blondness, the blue eyedness, the shortness and the round, soft face – looks amazing on Rin. God, Rin, he thinks, warmth spreading in his chest. Shaking his head, he moves his hands to unbutton his shirt, but then someone knocks on the door.

"Len?" Rin whispers. "Is that you? Are you decent?"

His heart seems to jump to his throat. "Yeah," he replies, his hands dropping.

"Oh, goodie," Rin says, entering the room and shutting the door behind her. He stares at her as she fiddles with her hair a bit, moving over to the mirror to put on one of those cotton white headbands she's so keen on wearing.

After adjusting it, she turns to Len. "Are you okay? You couldn't have gotten out of here faster than like... a cheetah."

He almost laughs. "I was feeling confused."

"You _look _confused," she says, going over to lock the door and switch on the shower head. To make sure no one hears, that no one comes in. Something about those two actions make something go oily slick at the bottom of his stomach, his heart thudding.

"Um."

Neither of them say anything. Rin's sitting on the white bathroom counter and he's just leaning against it, playing with his wristband. The questions are _there_, the words and the sentences and things – but they're all huddled together, buried underneath this layer over them.

Then she kicks him.

Lightly, but still a kick.

He frowns, looking up at her. She looks down sheepishly, but kicks him again.

"What?" he says.

She shrugs. And kicks him again.

And again. And again. And again.

"What did I ever do to you?" Len protests, blocking the kicks with his hands but not moving away.

"Nothing," she says, grinning a little, and he thinks that this is maybe, probably, some kind of trap. Not that it stops him from grinning a little back.

"Seriously, Rin, what?"

"_Nothing_," she says, bubbling out with a giggle, and then he thinks he's going to move in to tickle her or something -

But then she says, "I like it when you smile."

Like a trigger, he feels it fade, and the seriousness pulls down on them again. He can feel his insides fluttering and caving in at the same time as she looks down at him, all gentle-like.

"Did I..." she starts uncertainly. "Did I get it wrong?"

"Get what wrong?" he asks.

"When you said you loved me," she says, her voice wavering on the word _loved_. "Did I not... I mean..."

He doesn't say anything, just frowns, thoughts spinning in his head. How can she think that what happened between them was a misinterpretation? How is that even possible?

"You didn't get it wrong," he manages to say.

"Okay," she replies, suddenly shy again. Her legs swing back and forth.

Then her hand slowly creeps up to his face, fingers gingerly touching his jaw. His breath hitches as he watches her, this beautiful girl, touch him. His chest feels like it's swelling up and maybe, maybe he should turn away or something but he can't.

She's inching closer to him, now – or maybe he's inching closer to her – and he still can't believe this is happening. That she's doing this. That she might even want to do this.

"Rin, Rin – we can't. We really... you're my sister, Rin," he murmurs, even as he leans into her touch and fingers the edge of the bathroom counter, itching to touch her bare leg. He's not sure where all these hormones are coming from, the way they're creeping up on him – it feels like a dream, her being here with him like this. "Jesus, we can't -"

The collar of his shirt is now lightly fisted in her hands. "Can't?" she asks.

"You can't just do stuff like this," he says desperately as she brings his face closer to hers, lips just an inch away. "Jesus, Rin, it's going to kill me."

Her hands release a little, before letting go entirely. She looks down at the ground. His body is crying out for her warmth again but he can't, he just _can't_, the entire thing – appealing as it is – still makes him squirm.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, before gently placing her hands on his cheeks and kissing him.


	5. and they don't look where they're going

**TITLE | **born out of thorns  
**PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS | **Rin/Len, duh.  
**RATING | **M  
**SUMMARY | **It is the most terrifying and horrifying feeling when Len realises he is in love with his sister.  
**NOTES | **You want to know what I did instead of updating? Probably not, but here's the vague gist - I got a job, I fed a possum and I _didn't _get rabies, so one point to Amaryne, _zero _for nature. I stared at Martin Freeman's face for about 90 years. Then I started writing what, again, was _supposed _to be a oneshot of Rin's perspective of this entire you're-sexy-except-oops-you're-related-to-me conundrum that we have here... which then, like everything else I've ever done in my life, turned into a monster and is now 34 pages with absolutely no telling of when it'll end. And that's when I thought, okay Amaryne, you should probably finish this first. So here it is!

If you read through all that wall of text, I commend you and thank you.

Also, to dear Anon who left the last review: I read your review as soon as it processed through. I was going to reply, but alas, you didn't leave any contact details... log in and review next time, and we can be friends? Yes? No? You're lovely, by the way! Like actually! Thank you so much. To you and everyone else who's ever reviewed or had any kind of faith in me, really!

Okay, onwards!

/

This is what he remembers.

His dad knocking on the bathroom door mid-kiss with Rin, and him pulling away from her wet mouth and lying without a second thought: "I'm in the shower, dad!"

"Do you know where Rin is?"

And he feels her pause against him and she mouths_: I've gone out. I'm out._

"She went out, dad!"

"Oh," his father says, sounding slightly affronted - not that he really notices, because that's when Rin pulls him down to her and starts coaxing his tongue into her mouth.

What he learns about himself in this moment is that he's a terribly, disgustingly hormonal. Which isn't a surprise, being a male teenager and everything, except there's kissing your girlfriend and realising that there's a distinct possibility of getting to third base and then there's making out with your twin sister in your bathroom and realising you'd probably sleep with her and then some if she said _yes_.

And there's still a little anthem of _I can't, I can't, I can't_ at the back of his head except he thinks he's kind of mastered the ability to shut off parts of his brain at will because he's still kissing her. He doesn't really want to stop. Her mouth is warm and nice and kind of shy in a typically sweet, Rin-ish way - which sends a strange, twisted thrill through his chest, down to the bottom of his stomach and that's when his hands start fisting into themselves again on the bathroom counter just to keep them from sliding into the material of her shorts. That's when her hands slide down from his cheeks to his shoulders, and she pulls away from him a little with a _smack_, panting.

"Your eyes are really dark," she says, finally.

He breathes out. "I'm not surprised," he replies. It takes a while to pull away from all the warmth and the heavy breathing and the feel of Rin's bare legs between his but he does, eventually.

Then he steps back and lets the cold, chilly tiles bring him back to Earth, pressing his hands against his eyes. "Jesus, Rin," he says.

Her breath hitches. "Do you not want to -"

"Of course I _want _to. Jesus _hell_, of course I _want _to," he says, exasperated, "I just -"

"Keep your voice down. Dad might hear."

He looks up at her, at just - her general _honesty_, the sincerity, her _face _and how beautiful it is; and he's not sure why it's suddenly so prominent in this moment but it is and it makes his heart ache and it makes him want to bury himself down in a place where no one can see him.

"Len..."

_How are you fine with this_? he wants to ask, except he doesn't because he - selfishly - doesn't want her to take her offer off of the table. Well, he does, on some levels - but for the most part? Not really, no.

"I've got a lot of homework," he says, the words woolly in his mouth. "And... it... I need to do it. So we should... I'll..."

The look on her face is heartbreaking. All resigned and understanding and - Jesus Christ. She slides off of the bathroom counter.

"Okay," she says, in a dumb, apologetic way - which she shouldn't, she - she doesn't need to apologise, not for this. Sure, she's making him feel like shit, but it's not _her _fault. "I'll give you some time."

Then she walks out of the bathroom like nothing's happened.

/

What he realises in the next few days is that Rin watches him, just like he watches her. The sharp sink of shame has dissolved itself into a soft curiousity and it has his gaze lingering on her longer than what he'd normally allow. She'll look back, too, over dinner tables and across halls and in between classes; and there won't be a gleam or a spark or anything - just _heat_. A build up of fire, the slow climb towards temptation. And his mouth will go dry and he thinks his eyes must go dark because then she'll smile, except it'll be a shy, nervous smile and that's when he's pulled back down to Earth just because his chest will tighten dangerously, warningly; _that's _when he looks away. This is when the shame comes in, in thin washes and small twisting knives, in his stomach and through his head, but it's different. By this point it's moreso the looming knowledge and the concept of _Rin wants me to kiss her, she wants me to hold her, I am in her head as more than a brother _that sends his thoughts from a gust to a tornado than the knee-jerk _no it is wrong it is disgusting, I am so sick in the head._

If she reminds him of _them_ again, she does it in the best and worst possible ways - like the lingering of her touch on his shoulder or a small smile behind her book or a slightly husky _good night _called out to him before he goes to sleep.

He thinks she must have been born to drive him insane.

/

It's strange to go back to school, where everything is the same, when everything in his life has changed dramatically. It's strange to look at all the people around him and think that they must have secrets like his too; that anything could have happened, big or small, that their lives could have changed _completely _or not budged an inch and that the only reason this is even a thought in his mind is because he's shared the same building with them for seven hours a day, five days a week, for the past five years.

And Rin is everywhere, like she's always been. Talking at assemblies, presenting charities, performing her prefect duties and smiling at all the students in the hallway because she knows them and they think they know her: Rin Kagamine, blonde and petite, simple and sweet. Pure and innocent like nothing else.

Except this is the same girl who sometimes says her so-called best friend's name like it's the ugliest word in the world; this is the same girl who pushed her tongue into her twin brother's mouth, twice. He's not sure why knowing that and thinking that makes his heart swell in his chest, it just does. It makes him want to sit down and write songs about it, poems. It makes him want to put it on paper, as evidence, as _proof_, and then not show anyone it because it's his secret.

See, he thinks. This can't be love. Love can't be this unhealthy. He can't think thoughts like this and think it's romantic, it's not. It's sick. Even if it was for some girl, and not someone who was directly related to him, these thoughts and feelings just aren't right. It's clingy, it's creepy. He's not sure whether it's his good or bad luck that Rin's encouraging this all with her small smiles and her lingering touches.

He spends a few lunchtimes thinking nothing but this - not actively, of course. It's like what happens before he falls asleep; he'll be thinking about what he should do for his next assignment and then he'll remember that he has no idea what he's going to do with his life and somehow this links into the fact that he's in love with Rin and she thinks it's okay.

And then one lunchtime he hears, "Look, Rin, _look_. This is a Len in his natural habitat."

"Kaito -"

"_Shh_, Rin. Don't startle him. He's too busy drowning in his thoughts."

"I can _hear _you," Len says, turning around to look at them both.

Kaito looks at them both, eyes widened in mock-surprise. "Rin. _Rin_. It _speaks_."

"You're an asshole." But he grins a little despite himself, although it fades once he feels the dull _pang _that always comes with Rin's presence. "What do you want?"

Kaito shrugs. "I think we were supposed to do something, but then I saw you being a pensive little shit and I thought, well. That has to be _stopped_."

Len rolls his eyes. "Well, at least you didn't hit me this time."

Rin blinks. "You hit Len, Kaito?"

"It wasn't a _hit_. It was a spank. On the hand. Like, it was kinky. Watch it, though, next time it'll be your face."

"A spank on the face is just a _slap_, you moron."

"Fuck you, says who?"

"Says the fucking dictionary, you ass."

"Wow," Rin says, laughing a little. "I had no idea you guys were so, um - friendly."

Kaito boggles at Len. "You didn't tell her about the _brotherhood_? Jesus Christ, Len, you're _awesome_. I _knew _you were a true bro. Secrets _forever_."

"What's the brotherhood?"

"A shitty excuse to get Len out of his ass for few hours every Friday night," Kaito replies. Len just rolls his eyes again.

"So that's what you've been -? Wow, Len. Um." She laughs again, except it's a little bit lower, a little less bubbly. "I don't know what to say."

"I guess I should've told you," he says half-heartedly, looking at her. He feels his heart sink, his stance loosen.

"Well, I know now," she replies, smiling softly, like she's forgiving him for something. And even though he's not sure what it is or what it's for, he feels himself soften anyway. Jesus, her eyes are beautiful.

"Um," Kaito says, interrupting them. "Should I be leaving? Is there like, unresolved family business that's about to be resolved? Because I'll go, just say the -"

"_That's _where you guys are. God, would it kill you to let me know before you ditch me? See U and Oliver won't stop fighting and it's _seriously _getting on my -" Miku stops. At the weird tension in the air or at him, Len's not sure. "Uh. What's going on?"

They all look at each other - Kaito to Len, Len to Rin, Rin to Kaito.

"I spanked Len but he doesn't believe me," Kaito says, all mock-serious and overly-dramatic, and Len exhales.

/

"I didn't know you and Kaito were friends," Rin says casually. It's five in the afternoon and she's in the living room, painting her toenails.

He hesitates before he replies. Then he looks over his shoulder for his father, who, predictably, is still at work. "Yeah, it just happened."

She looks up from her toenails, eyes curious. "Are you guys close?"

Len frowns, and thinks about all their times battling it out in the arcade or drinking down their woes in abandoned parks. "Sort of."

Rin nods, and immediately he can tell something is off. Just - something about her seems to stiffen, to freeze. "What's wrong?" he asks, and she blinks at him, like she's surprised. Thinking about it, she probably is. He thinks of the comment Miku made before - _Len, asking after someone's wellbeing?_

"I, um... I feel like I should tell you something," she says. "But I'm not sure if I should. But I want to, because I want to, um. What I _want _to do is - but I can't - because I'm not sure - um - " She opens her mouth and closes it for a good few seconds before huffing impatiently. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to say it."

"Right," he says.

"It's about me. And Kaito," she adds, rather reluctantly. Her knees curl up to her chest and she places the nail polish on the coffee table, careful not to spill it. "I don't even know if you should know, I just... um... we... I don't know if he told you, but..." She looks at Len, as if she expects him to finish her sentence.

He doesn't answer for a while because he's not even sure he can have this conversation without feeling just a little bitter. "He mentioned 'almost dating' you," he says slowly, and that's when she nods and looks away.

"I don't even know if it's really that big a deal, we just - um - it was when you and Miku were dating, and - do you even want to know about this? I can spare you the details, if you want."

He kind of wishes she'd just gone along and said it without asking for his permission. Trust Rin. "Just say it."

"Well... Kaito was really devastated over you and Miku. And I guess I was just sick of how he was still hung up on her, and how I was kinda still hung up on him. So we - I don't know what it was. We kissed a bit," she admits, face blushing red, and he wonders what's flustering her, exactly. "It was wet and different and I think you're a much better kisser."

Now she's not even looking at him. "I totally understand if you think I'm a terrible person. Because I know, I _know_, how can I go behind my friend's back like that? How could I -"

"Rin," he says impatiently, before she really gets into her self-deprecating spiel. "You're not a terrible person. Never have been and you never will. So you kissed a guy. Big deal. I don't care, it doesn't matter."

She blinks up at him. "Really? Not even a little bit?"

"_No," _he says, exasperated. Though he supposes it isn't really all true - he doesn't like the idea of Kaito kissing Rin, no. But that's not really the point here. "That's not even logical. How could I judge you for something like that?"

"I don't know," Rin says, sounding slightly defensive. "I broke the girl code. And he's your friend now."

"Right, because breaking the girl code is what makes you a terrible person, not the law."

His words come out blunt and brutal, and he sees her stiffen a bit. Len sighs, and tries to soften his voice. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong."

"No, it's okay," she says quietly. "I know what you mean. And I don't really blame you... I mean, I came onto you pretty hard."

He smiles wryly. "Yeah. I guess you did."

She smiles back before stretching forward to touch her toes. Her toenails are blue, as they always are - a piece of sky on her feet, as she always says. When she catches him looking at her feet, her smile grows into a grin.

"Do you want to try?" she asks, holding out the nail polish.

He snorts. "Tempting, but no."

"They'll match your eyes. Warm up your complexion. Wearing flip-flops will be so much more exciting."

"I'm perfectly happy with my flip-flop wearing, thanks."

She laughs. "Okay, okay. I guess we should talk about serious things - like, um. This. Us."

He says nothing to this, and instead chooses simply to raise his eyebrows.

And say what? There's no way around this - they've hit a wall. Either do the right thing, which is to forget this ever happened and continue on like normal siblings somehow, or to do the wrong, illegal thing and sneak around for however long illicit, torrid affairs usually last. Or they can do the latter while attempting to justify to everyone why an incestuous affair should be okay - maybe they'll parade a 'love conquers all' flag and abandon everything else as they're inevitably shunned by society - and their parents. Jesus, their _parents_.

But he doesn't say any of this to her. He sits down next to her, and waits for her to speak, feeling like his heart is lodged in his throat.

"How are you dealing with everything?" she asks.

"...I don't think I am," he admits. "Whenever my brain starts to catch up, I feel like it's going to explode."

"I guess this is all pretty weird."

He chuckles. "Big understatement."

"When did you, um... start?"

"_Start_? I, uh..." This, this is something he can't exactly say. Not just because the first time he realised he had a thing for his sister was when she snuggled up against him and gave him a boner - something he's not exactly enthused to tell Rin about, even if she is okay with all of this - but because these are thoughts he's always kept suppressed, flattened down to a T, hidden at the back of his mind. It's private. It's not meant to be discussed.

She seems to notice how much he's struggling to talk and she smiles. "I'll go first if you want," she says shyly, and he nods, suddenly very curious. Although he's quite sure it'll take days of him replaying the answer over and over again before he finally believes it - if he ever does. He can't imagine Rin, innocent little Rin, looking at him from the corner of her eye, watching him whenever he enters a room, letting her gaze linger for too long, feeling that _pang _of jealousy whenever a girl approaches him, breaking down with the realisation that he's her brother and that this isn't right - he can't imagine that at all. It just doesn't fit with her.

"Um... you know how we keep mixing up our clothes and stuff?" she says, and her shoulder brushes a bit against his. He nods. "I really liked the smell of your clothes. Oh wow, that sounded less creepy in my head, I'm -"

"It's fine. Keep going," he interrupts.

She smiles a bit. "Okay. I started mixing them up purposefully, you know? I just really liked wearing your uniform and then laughing about it later with you - and it just felt really nice. And I didn't think much of it, you know. I mean, I did think it was a _bit _weird, but not enough to, you know, stop. It was harmless."

"Right," he says.

"And then... I - okay. So one day I just realised that I kept smelling your clothes. Like, needlessly. Which was weird, right? And it's just like - you're this god, kind of," she says. "Okay. I'm not saying any of this very well."

"A _god_?" If it wasn't so serious, he'd laugh. A _god_?

"It's just that I've always seen you as this... _person_."

"Profound," he says, and she smacks him playfully in a way that makes him grin a little.

"It's just that you were always this person that I admired from afar, you know? You're talented and witty and you hate everyone but you don't _brag _about it or anything. And when you started, um, appearing in our social circle - what with you dating Miku and everything - I just... I got a closer look at you. And at first it was just really interesting because you don't really meet introverted people like you in a performing arts school, you know? And everyone else who's quiet is just... quiet, but you have an _aura_. People still look at you."

"People look at you too."

"But I have to _try_," she says, smiling weakly. "That's the thing. I have to try so hard."

"What's wrong with trying?"

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know." She shakes her head. "And I'm always doing this, you know, I always _analyse _people - and I don't know why I do it, because it's not like I get anything right. It's not like my judgments are ever _correct_. But I guess, I don't know. When I started living with you and I saw how kind you were to me and how much of a good person you were, I just... couldn't stop wondering."

"About what?" he says.

"Like, what you'd look like if you really, really wanted something. Whether you'd reach out for it or just... stay the way you are. I don't know. It was just always on my mind."

"...Right," he says, thinking about her words, what she means. It's odd, looking away from her and knowing that she's waiting intently for some kind of answer. It's odd to think that she wants something from him, that her eyes are on him. _Him_. Him. Letting out a frustrated puff of air, he looks up at the ceiling, mulling over his own response.

"What're you thinking about?" she asks.

"You," he replies, and he thinks it's one of the most honest things he's ever said.

"...Me what?"

He looks at her, at her warm blue eyes, and he thinks: _I don't deserve your affection. _But he doesn't say this. Instead, he leans in experimentally, and feels his heart twist at the way she follows suit, the way her eyes flutter shut for him. For _him_.

He kisses her, and he tries to do it right. He tries to be accommodating, selfless, soft and gentle and like everything she should have. Like a gentleman, he supposes. It's brief and it's soft and he almost resents how she kisses him back, all pliant and responsive against him. Then when it's over, he pulls away, and he hears her whisper '_Len' _before he rests his head into the hollow of her shoulder.

She seems to understand, because her hand reaches up to the back of his neck and starts stroking his hair through her fingers. He can hear a faint, dull, quick beat; it takes a while for him to realise that it's her heart. Or maybe it's his. He sighs into her skin and feels his thoughts die down to a low buzz, even as his heart races at a ridiculously fast rate. His body reacts to her in the oddest ways, he decides.

"I think I talk too much," she mumbles. He chuckles against her, though he's not quite sure what amuses him exactly. "I swear I've been the only one talking throughout this entire conversation. I still feel weird about the whole stealing your clothes thing."

"Don't," he says quietly.

They stay like that for a while. And it's like when he gets really into his compositions – his head will clear and his heart will rush and it's like nothing else exists but notes and paper and _music_. And time will pass and he won't even know, he won't even acknowledge it; that has been the closest to passion he's ever felt. Except this time it's not notes and paper and music, it's skin and blue eyes and blonde hair and his sister.

Rin pulls away eventually, giving him a warm and apologetic look. "Dad's going to come home soon," she says, and he already feels the distinct, vomit-inducing curl in his stomach, the disgust, like punishment for the calm and the peace he'd felt only minutes before. Dad. Dad. _Dad_.

It is this moment when he realises he is not going to say 'no' to her. Or 'yes'. It's just going to be this continuous mix between the two answers, boundaries blurred and thoughts foggy, and it's not going to stop. It's going to feel amazing, and it's going to revolt him. It doesn't matter what _he _says – as long as her answer is _yes, _this disposition he's found himself in is not going to stop. The thought gives him a strange thrill, and it makes him feel sick.

He stands up abruptly, glancing at the clock. She stands up with him, a small, self-deprecating smile on her face.

"There are lot of things in the world that are bad, Len," Rin says. "Are we really one of them? I don't know. Something to think about."

/

The rest of the week goes by, and things are very different. There is a build up of something between him and Rin, and there has been ever since that night outside the restaurant, out in the snow. He wonders if there's any end to how conscious he is of Rin now. Every nerve underneath his skin seems to prickle whenever she's in the room, in class or otherwise. He's still not sure if it's in anticipation or in warning, whether to deal with the dread in his stomach, the affection overflowing in his chest, or the desire that seems to simmer all over his skin.

She, somehow, starts showing up at his locker. And, somehow, he starts showing up at hers. Somehow, they have a thousand more reasons to stop in the hallway and talk. Somehow their clothes and stationary and food get mixed more often than not and they have to sort it out, together, alone. And it's like they create a language out of lies and excuses, code.

_Oops, I got your jumper by accident _from Rin usually becomes a half hour conversation where she relaxes and rants and does whatever she wants – and then hugs him at the end for it, light and friendly, just as anyone thinks a sister would.

_Hey, do you have notes for maths _from Rin usually becomes a lunch wherein they simply walk around the school, hands brushing against each other, shoulders grazing, maybe a light peck in an empty bathroom or behind a locker.

And then there's _Rin, we need to figure out what to get for Dad's birthday _or _Rin, we need to go to the office to fix our emergency details_ – all bullshit excuses, which for him, translates into _I need to touch you. _These always turn into heated kisses behind the school, and sometimes they stay heated and hurried and when lunch is over he's still left wanting. Sometimes they slow down, though, so that they're long and patient, like they have all the time in the world. The former, he thinks, is far more self-destructive and drives him absolutely insane with how much he's left craving her. But the latter always seems to break his heart. Because afterwards she'll pull away and look at him with the most loving gaze, and all he can do is rest his forehead against hers and whisper _Rin, Rin, Rin. _And then she'll smile and say _Len, Len, Len_ in a decidedly happier tone and he'll smile a bit, too.

_There are lot of things in the world that are bad, Len. Are we really one of them? I don't know. Something to think about._

The answer is: no. But that's not the question. It's bordering on the question, yes. It's dancing on the sidelines. But he doesn't think that's exactly it.

Because he's never been one for social norms. They seem to elude him, most of the time. Imperfect parents, imperfect attitude. He only has a certain amount of passion and before, it was spread thinly over different, trivial subjects that did nothing for him but capture his attention for a few seconds, hours, days – photography never lasted, drawing frustrated him, writing only came out in spurts without any kind of schedule and music is something he has to force himself with an iron fist. Before, that's where all his passion existed. Now most of lies with Rin, and it kills him as much as it does not because it crosses any particular moral boundaries that he upholds or because of how _other _people will react (though that is certainly something he's slightly conscious of) but because it's _incest_. Plain and simple. He doesn't think it's wrong or that it's '_bad_'. The idea just freaks him out. The idea that he can look at Rin and still associate the word 'sister' with her all the while fantasising about her and staring at her and developing this obsession with her and everything that she does. She _looks _like him, for crying out loud. He can't sit down and say _it's fine, we're different, we didn't grow up together and when I look at her, all I see is Rin. Not my sister._

Because he sees both. He sees the same. She _is _his sister, and there is no way around it. There's no way to make it 'okay'. The only thing that makes it 'okay' is when he's too tired to fight it anymore.

This is why he hates himself. This is why he's more fucked up than she is. This is why.

/

**NOTE: **Also, by the way, because I think having a beta reader will very much boost my productivity (a lot of time was wasted on this pondering whether or not I was doing anything right), would anyone like to volunteer? I've contacted a couple of people over the interwebs but alas, I have received no response… don't worry, it won't be anything strenuous. I'm not too fussed about picking out spelling or grammar errors. I just want someone to look over my work and be like "yepyepyep" or "nopenopenope" hahaha! Thanks for reading!

There are lot of things in the world that are bad, Len," Rin says. "Are we really one of them? I don't know. Something to think about."


End file.
